Want it Take it Love it Keep it
by IHoldWithThoseWhoFavorFire.HM
Summary: LxMello. L has always been a brat. If he wants it, he takes it, even when he knows its likely to get him into trouble. Warning: Slightly AU. Explicit sex between a minor and an adult in later chapters. Child abuse. If that isn't your thing, don't read.
1. Pretty

DISCLAIMER: The Death Note characters do not belong to me, they belong to the great Tsugumi Ohba, and Takeshi Obata. If they were mine, some chacters wouldn't have died and other's would not have lived nearly as long as they did.

A/N:

Now, I'm only gonna say this once so, pay attention...I wanted to keep this as close to canon as possible so, in the beginning, Mello is 12, almost 13, and L is 23. If that kind of thing isn't your cup of tea, I suggest you stop right here and click the back button. They will be engaging in a GRAPHIC sexual relationship - note the M rating. Slightly AU as story progresses. You have been properly warned. Thank you, and have a lovely day. : )

That being said, let's get on with the show...

CHAPTER 1

_**PRETTY**_

It was on Halloween, the first time L really _noticed _it. At least in the concious sense. Though he did not like to admit to himself that probably, subconciously, it had been there for some time, several months at least. He just couldn't think of himself as an -ahem- normal human being. He did not have time to act on the kind of instincts the majority of the human species was so often distracted by. Not to mention, socially speaking, these emotions were very, very unethical, or so he'd been told. But, ethically speaking, allowing a preteen to spend hours on the internet looking at graphic crime scene photos and reading descriptions of heinous crimes was also very wrong, yet he'd done just that.

"Mello, what /_exactly_/ is it that you're dressed up as?" Watari had asked upon entering the Wammy House library.

L was currently pretending to be revisiting a case file, though he had memorized every detail, name, and date therein. He smirked behind the folder held inches from his nose. Watari was most definately not going to approve.

"A mob boss, of course. Duh." Mello replied, opening a second browser window, checking for inaccuracies in his costume. He was practically a mirror image of the now imprisoned criminal he was trying to emmulate, except for that fact that he was nearly twenty years younger than the man in the picture. It had been the boss's final day in court, and he'd showed up wearing skin tight leather pants, slightly heeled black boots, and a feathered coat that fell just below his knees. The prison, which L had been mostly responsible for sending the man to, was still intercepting marriage proposals from "fans".

"Ah, yes, I remember that one. You did an excellent job assisting our L on this case. You received an 'A' in your current events studies for that work, yes?"

"Yeah, I kicked Near's sorry ass this semester."

Near, from his place on the floor, looked up from the transformer he'd been disassembling, to frown in his older classmate's direction. "Only because your assignment was much simpler. L has not even solved the case I was assigned to assist with."

"Please refrain from using that language in the building Mello." Watari scolded. Then, gesturing to the plastic gun tucked into the front of the blond's leather pants, he added, "I don't see that anywhere in the picture."

Mello scoffed, clicking back to the first picture, a fuzzy black and white image showed the man, six months prior and wearing a similar ensemble, taken by an undercover police officer. "There you go."

"It's still inaccurate." Near interjected again. "He isn't wearing that much /_makeup/ _in those photos either."

"Shut up Near, I don't remember anyone asking you. And at least I made an effort!" Mello picked up a handheld mirror, checking that the eyeliner he just applied hadn't smudged. "That's not a costume at all. You're an albino in pajamas all year long."

Near rummaged through his toybox nearby, finding a pair of bunny ears attached to a headband. He set them atop his mass of uncombed white hair, before returning to the task at hand - attaching a skeletal head to a decapitated transformer. He gently set his creation aside, allowing time for the glue to dry.

"Near, you're fucking twisted." Mello rolled his eyes. The teachers called /_him/ _a problem child. Here the little brat was, tearing the heads off his toys and exchanging body parts, like some sort of techno Doctor Frankenstein. "You should have gone as Doctor Frankenstein."

The younger boy twirled his hair, tugging at the unruly, slightly curled strands. "Perhaps that is what I am."

Mello's bright blue eyes narrowed, angry that none of his insults seemed to affect his rival. His fists clenched, imagining what he could do to the little boy. He thought, 'if only Watari and L were elsewhere'...then he was reminded of how disappointed L had looked the last time he and Watari had pulled the boys apart from a fight. And it wasn't even his fault! Near, the little instigator, had kept egging him on, until their mentors had rounded the corner. All the older men saw was Mello's fist inches from the weaker boy's terrified features. Then the younger had gone limp, looking very much like a white rabbit, caught by the wild cat. Little fucking faker.

L, from his perch across the room, was having completely different, but equally alarming, thoughts. He watched the blond taking deep, shallow breaths. Watched his delicate features twist into a terrifying sneer. The pretty almond eyes turn to slits. He sighed deeply, turning his face away from the scene in front of him. Had he really just described one of successors, a much younger boy at that, as 'pretty'? He certainly wasn't sliced strawberries on top of thick white icing, covering vanilla cake, oozing more strawberry sauce from it's center. L looked back then, to verify that Mello indeed had very little in common his the sort of things he would usually describe as 'pretty'. No, this was not a fat slice of cake. This was a student, dressed head-to-toe in black leather, very _tight _black leather. This was a boy sporting the same hair cut he had had since he'd first come to the institution as a toddler. This was Mello, with his intelligent blue eyes and insane smile. Mello, who could go from carefully plotting out every detail with calm determination, to being unstopable, unreasonable anger personified. Most importantly, this was a _boy_,who looked up to him as a mentor. Though sometimes it was hard to see how young he really was when looking over his test scores, or conversing with him about the psychology of a mass murderer as they often did late at night while indulging in their respective addictions. And it became even harder to remind himself that this was in fact, a child, when his body seemed to be developing much more quickly than most. It gave him the ability to pull off _/leather/_ without looking like a little boy playing dress up.

"L?" The detective suddenly realized that someone must have been calling him for a few moments now, judging from the irritated tone with which his codename was currently being uttered. "Hey, L, whose do /_you/ _like better? Honestly. Though I already know who you're going to pick." Mello smiled, hand resting on the butt of the fake gun still tucked into his waistband. Dangerous. Yes, that was the best word to describe Mello's appearance. Just like the thoughts he'd been having lately. Bad for him. Most likely going to get him in a great deal of trouble if he didn't stop them soon. Luckily, dangerous situations weren't something that normally fazed the world- famous detective.

L smiled, though the expression seemed wrong somehow, considering that he was currently chewing the end of his thumb. It gave the smile a lopsided, almost comical effect. He looked from one boy, to the other, feigning consideration. Yes, he knew whose costume he like better, though he decided that it would be highly inappropriate to say so, especially with Watari and Near in the room. Finally, when Mello appeared ready to cry with frustration, and when Near had gone back to the mutilation of innocent dolls, L spoke, though it was not what the child wanted to hear.

"Watari, where is my birthday cake?"

This is the first fic I've written in a long time, and my first Death Note fic ever!

How was it?

Like it? Love it? Hate it? Review it? Pretty please?


	2. My Favorite

CHAPTER 2

_**MY FAVORITE**_

Seeing as how L was not likely to show his face in public, even costumed in the dark on Halloween, and that neither Watari or Roger thought they were young enough (or _brave_ enough) to handle a gaggle of screaming child prodigies on a door to door hunt for candy, there would be no trick-or-treating. Instead, a huge celebration was hosted downstairs in honor of the holiday where most of the children, dressed up in expected Halloween attire, spent the evening on scavenger hunts, or stuffing themselves with candy.

The older children, especially the three potential successors, had much more important business to attend to. It was, after all, the anniversary of a very important birth. More than one cake had been lovingly prepared in his honor, as well as handcrafted gifts.

Matt, after triple-checking that the sound system, now blasting various spooky sounds and horror-themed music, was in proper working order, had been the first to present his gifts. He'd prepared a chocolate confection (with much _hindering _from his blond BFF) decorated with edible skeletons, gravestones, and spiders. He'd also made a compilation disc of techno music labeled 'Music to Catch Baddies With'. He smiled proudly as L thanked him, ruffling his unruly red hair.

"One more thing, L, boot up that laptop there." Matt smiled as L opened his computer. The screen popped up, usual plain white background now decorated with a huge black gothic-styled "L" that took up most of the screen. "Now when you talk to the police and sh-" Watari flashed a warning glance at the boy, stopping him in mid-sentance before the curse word could escape the eleven-year-old's mouth "stuff, they'll see that instead of that boring-ass blank page. Oops, sorry Watari, Roger." Though they both knew he was, indeed not sorry. Not about the swearing, which could only partially be blamed on Mello, but L as well, or about having hacked into the system when he was currently under a close watch for such delinquent activity. Though Matt often reminded his elders that they should not have so encouraged his programming skills to the point of allowing him to teach computer classes to some of the younger generation, without expecting at least a mild hacking habit to develop. They were practically begging for it, and they knew it, which is why they refrained from punishing the boy, despite the boy's highly illegal activities. Besides, L simply wouldn't have it. He was proud of his successor for finding something he was good at and taking the time to master his craft. Brilliance was something to be rewarded, not chastized.

"It's quite nice, Matt, thank you." The image certainly commanded attention and respect. Two things L thoroughly enjoyed. Especially from the officials that almost always seemed more than a bit annoyed at having him take over their lives' work, to be solved in a matter of hours or days. It couldn't be helped though. And L has yet to feel anything akin to remorse. If they'd been able to do their jobs, he wouldn't have had to be called in the first place.

Eyes turned to Mello next who had managed to find the closest seat next to his idol, staring in obvious adoration at the older man.

"We save the best for last, Near next." The blond stuck his tongue out at his rival, who was currently making an effort to uncurl himself from his comfy position on the carpet.

Near produced a small plastic toy from his travelling toy box, along with several homemade fingerpuppets. The latter were mirror images of all of them, which L sat carefully next to him while picking up the former. It was similar to a rubiks cube, only somewhat smaller and much more complicated - having detailed pictures instead of just colors on each of it's faces. "There are more moves to make than the original toy, it should be an enjoyable challenge." Near informed, his tone just as blank, devoid of all human emotion as usual. L immediately started twisting and turning the object, determined to solve it before the evenings end.

Last, Mello dragged L into the kitchen to show him the grand confection he'd prepared. The cake was gigantic, possibly too much so, and L's very favorite. Each layer of vanilla cake was covered with thick white frosting and decorated with what was probably at least a hundred sliced up strawberries. L remembered his earlier train wreck of thought involving such a masterpiece. He looked from the blond, whose hands were resting on his hips, causing the leather to slip, riding even lower on his thin waist, back to the gigantic cake, finding that he was suddenly quite hungry. He couldn't quite figure out why he seemed all the more starved as he was looking away from his birthday treat. He shook this thought away, thanking the boy by lifting him slightly off the ground in a hug.

"Geez, don't get so excited. That isn't all." Mello ran to his room, while L returned to join the rest of the group. The blond flew back down the stair case, jumping the last three steps, arms full of a large black book. The book was sealed with a lock that had a small keypad on it, displaying every letter of the alphabet. "Don't worry, you and I are the only ones that are going to know the passcode." Mello stood on tiptoe to whisper into L's ear.

"Mello, you should not know that name. Let alone take the chance that anyone could find out you do."

Mello's face fell. It reminded L of the way he felt when it rained heavily - so terribly cold and alone. He entered the code despite himself, the name he hadn't used since Watari had taken him in. He lock popped open. Inside was a photo album, full of pictures of himself and his three favorites. He wondered how long Mello had been keeping these pictures, when he'd had the chance to take all of them without him noticing. As he flipped through, he relized that it started just a few years after Mello had arrived, L only a little older than the kids were now. Another unfamiliar emotion welled up, L trying his best to push it away. He had not cried since he'd arrived here, drenched from the heavy rain and crying for two people whose faces were already fading from his memory. Some days he could still hear the other children at that first orphanage, screaming for mommy and daddy. Watari had sworn there would be no need for tears here. And he was a grown man, a brilliant one at that. He was beyond this. Still, the emotion so plain on Mello's face, the way he himself could cause the boy to feel something so strongly and openly, when he should have been beyond it to. He felt...needed. Not just respected, admired, envied.

"It's perfect."

"You're favorite?" Mello lifted his eyes from their intense stare at the floor to look at, no, through, L. For once the detective was starting to think that emotion may not hinder intelligence, but magnify it.

L, not considering the rest of the audience, simply replied in the affirmative, before closing the lock on the book again.


	3. First KissNo, Seriously

Still pretty tame but we're starting to get into the plot. Enjoy!

CHAPTER 3

_**FIRST KISS...NO, SERIOUSLY.**_

The sun was threatening to come up, the first rays of light peeking over the horizon. The detective however, was just diving into a good case. The details had been faxed to his office hours ago, yet he had instead decided to finish the novel he had received as a gift from Roger. The caretaker had said that L looked like he needed to relax a bit. It was an odd statement, considering the content of the book. Either that, or it showed just how much Roger knew about the boy, that he thought gory, supernatural crime thrillers were a helpful way to put the insomniac genius to sleep. One of them was most certainly a touch morbid and disturbed. L decided, about halfway through the novel, that this description fit the older man perfectly, since he had stated that he'd found this one interesting enough to enjoy a second time.

On a side note, Watari had gifted him with a set of new pens, another set of his usual outfit (like every year) and a new suit jacket. In case he felt the need to, quote, 'dress like an adult some day'. L had reminded Watari of his going-out clothes, both sharing a laugh.

He was just about to send a message that he would take the case, the door handle was jiggling from across the room. Locking the door would keep out Watari and Roger from interrupting (though both probably had a key, they knew better than to disturb him) but that could not stop the delinquent on the other side from breaking in.

"Thirty nine seconds." L commented without looking up when he heard the door swing open. "It would not be wise for Mello to mention that I was the one that taught him that particular skill."

The blond giggled, bounding into the room and flopping into the chair across from the desk. He sat in it sideways, one armrest for his thin legs, the other to lay his head upon. He'd switched the leather for his usual attire and L couldn't help but feel that he looked all the more beautiful because of it.

"Actually, I just picked the lock to Roger's office and stole his keyring. He's asleep at his desk. Possibly inebriated. I took a sip from his 'water'. That shit burns. We must really stress him out." The blond giggled, then began babbling about something he and his redheaded accomplice had done the previous day. L knew well enough to notice the obvious signs. Mello had had more than just a sip.

"Yours and Roger's systems are very different. You are also not of legal age. How big of a 'sip' did you have?"

"We're celebrating!" The blond giggled.

"It is neither Halloween nor my birthday anymore."

"There's a celebration today and tomorrow in Mexico."

"Correct, though I must remind you that we are not in Mexico. We are in England. Now why are you out of bed at this hour?" Again there was that sudden change of emotion. Perhaps the boy really was not as affected as he had seemed at first glance. It occured to L that perhaps the younger was trying to mask something else by overcompensating. His features looked even more cherubic as they melted into the stone serious expression he now wore. Mello could be very proud when it came to weaknesses (as they both seemed to consider them) like sadness and insecurity. But being as young as he was, it was very difficult for him to hide them like an adult might in the same situation.

"I couldn't sleep." The boys blue eyes seemed to lighten some, welling up with unshed tears. "I seriously overstepped boundaries today. I know better. I just wanted us to have something..."

"Special." L finished. "You did nothing wrong. I overreacted. I know my secret is safe with you. That is why I told you. Near does not even know. Only you, Watari, and myself." He loved the way the boy's eyes lit up at this revelation.

Truth be told, L thought /_he/ _was the one who was overstepping boundaries. If just a thought was a crime, like the Catholic religion Mello followed thought it was, then the sudden desire to kiss the tears away was surely damning. The detective shook his head to clear away such foolish thoughts. First off, he did not follow a religion. And second, he found no reason to believe there was anything wrong with wanting the comfort of another human being. Especially one you cared about. Never mind their gender. Damning a person solely on their sexual preference was just ridiculous. That's all there was to it. Case closed.

"Near never does anything wrong. I hate it. I hate him!" Mello sighed, "But I can't help myself. I just do the most ridiculous shit without even thinking about the consequences. I wish I was more like him...then you'd like me better."

"Near never does /_anything/ _Mello. Yes, he is very intelligent. But, by no fault of his own, he is so very...cold. Knowing everything wont do you any good if you feel nothing. If you were more like him, you would not be my favorite."

Oops. He hadn't meant to say that. He'd meant to only think it but he'd always had a nasty habit of letting most of the things that passed through his mind, pass through his lips as well. Especially when it was least appropriate. This particular instance would make a perfect example should he ever need to explain this character flaw to anyone else in the future.

Watari had warned him. He remembered the conversation clearly. Picking favorites was a sure way to ruin a child's confidence. At such an age, it could be completely devastating. Still, that had not stopped him from becoming more attached to Mello than the other children, even Near and Matt. The teen's mind alone was fascinating, but his personality, it was absolutely spellbinding. L had spent the majority of his own young life believing that emotion was weakness, a waste of time. Good for nothing but bringing pain and devastation in its wake. That was why he resented Near's chilly nature. Because he was so much like himself. Having had discussed these views with Watari, the older man had simply pointed out that he acted on impulse far too often to have such opinions to not be considered hypocritical. Still, he was nothing like this.

At that moment, Mello was trying to decide whether to laugh or cry, or just run away. Maybe ask Matt what to do. He had always felt like no matter what he did, it was never good enough for anyone. Somebody was always better, somebody was always disappointed in him. Sometimes he suspected that even his being an orphan was somehow his fault.

As the detective watched the various emotions warring for dominance on the boys face, he felt again what he had earlier. This desire, like that for a rich piece of chocolate cake ('devil's food, perhaps', he thought briefly) was overwhelming. So the concern of consequences never once crossed his mind when he abandoned his perch, striding over to the plushy chair the object of his affection (infatuation, was that the word? Or, something that started with a letter slightly higher in the alphabet?). He knelt down, face to face with the angelic boy, and kissed away the tears of crushing sadness left behind from moments before, the news tears of happiness (he hoped) that now fell, making Mello's eyes seem that much bluer, even harder to look at. "You have such a lovely mind, Mihael." He kissed the boy's forehead, brushing aside the neatly trimmed bangs.

"That's all I am. A genius, just like everybody else here. Nothing special." It was a strange thing to lament, being more intelligent than adults decades your senior. Yet the institution seemed able to make a room full of geniuses feel ordinary, crafted from the same mould, over and over again. Just another potential replacement. L the first, L the second, and so on, and so forth.

L could have shared his observations of Wammy's being very like a factory. Turning each child with all the dreams that come with youth, smoothing out the edges that made it unique, whittling it down until it resembled just another copy. It almost made him sad. This seemed too philosophical for him, though. Too much like something contrived to console without any real meaning behind it. So, like Watari often accused him of doing, he acted upon instinct. Not the instincts that gave him the edge to solving crimes, but the ones that he had tried so hard to bury.

He kissed the boy, observing how the texture of someone else's lips could make you that much more aware of your own. It was an entirely different sensation than chewing on your thumb, or sucking on a lollipop. His lips tingled. He saw Mello's blue eyes darken, saw the pupils widen in a biological response to seeing something pleasurable. Then the eyelids closed tight, eyelashes only a slightly darker shade than the hair on his head. L closed his eyes too, knowing somehow this was the more intimate thing to do, though the analytical side of his brain wanted to study the other biological responses in his parter - the reddening of his cheeks, the eyebrows coming together closer in concentration, or possibly confusion. He wanted to analyze, to figure out what was going on inside that pretty mind. But his thoughts kept wandering back to just how /_soft/ _the lips were, how deceptively strong the arms were that wrapped around his neck to pull him closer.

He knew both of their bodies would not fit properly in a chair. He also was not entirely sure how to /_sit/ _in chair properly, let alone with another body. Thankfully, his arms did, and took over for him, one going under the boy's knees, the other under the back of his head, to lift him up and out of the chair, before awkwardly sprawling in it himself, pulling the angelic Mello into his lap.

Seconds later, Mello was the one to break the kiss. He was short of breath, seemingly unwilling to open his eyes. When he did, at last, L noticed for the first time their unusual, exotic almond shape. L wondered how many more similarities he could find between Mello's appearance and those of his favorite foods, considering that the boys lips had reddened considerably, from the pressure of his own connecting with them...He was reminded of cherries.

Mello had started to apologize, then decided against it. He turned pleading, vulnerable eyes to the older man, again seeming to stare straight through to his insides. "Please, can I stay in here? I couldn't sleep now. Don't turn me out."

"I initiated this. I'm not going to throw you out. Could please get my case file from the desk? I believe Watari also left a blanket hanging off my chair when he brought my tea."

"Can I help with this one?" Mello asked, his voice hopeful as he crossed the room, running his fingers through his hair to smooth it back into place.

"Honestly, I don't know that I could do it without your help." What L neglected to mention was that he couldn't possibly concentrate on work if he were to simply send him back to his room now.

Mello returned carrying the requested items, wrapping the blanket around them both and handing over the stack of papers. Beams of sunlight were sneaking through partially closed blinds. Mello yawned deeply, laying his head on L's chest. The detective stroked the soft blond hair, watching his partner fight sleep, eyelids quickly losing their battle.

"Read to me? My eyes hurt. Just gonna rest them for a minute."

* * *

R&R...Please?

If you like it, that's great. If you hate it, that's fine too but if you could drop me a line and maybe tell me why, it would be very much appreciated. : )


	4. Oblivious

Thank you Darkness-Bride for your review. It made my day.

Here's chapter 4, I hope you enjoy.

R&R

CHAPTER 4

_**OBLIVIOUS**_

When L woke late that afternoon, having had what he considered way too much sleep, every muscle and bone was stiff and ached unbearably. Sure, he was used to sleeping in chairs, but usually alone in his usual crouch, definitely not laying underneath another warm human body that seemed to be clinging to him like life depended upon it. So when the insistent knocking didn't go away (how impolite) he started to tell whoever it was to just come in already or piss off.

"L, no one has seen Mello all afternoon. We're worried. He missed lunch. There was chocolate cake on the menu today." Watari called through the door.

The twelve year old suddenly stirred at Watari's voice. L, being oblivious to normal social customs and taboos, couldn't think of any other reason for the blond to suddenly bolt out of his nest of blanket and detective, and immediately assumed it must have been the mention of chocolate the woke him.

"Shit. Shit. Shit." Mello mumbled quietly.

"I'm sure they saved you a slice. If not, we could make some more. You and Watari that is. I'm not supposed to mess around in the kitchen by myself. Or, really, with a chaperon even..." L smiled, remembering how angry Watari had been at the destruction of kitchen and their clothes. To be fair, the caretaker had not specified the amount of force that one should use to open a bag of flour. So, really, it wasn't L's fault at all. Just a simple misunderstanding, surely not deserving of such a harsh punishment. Especially when he'd been denied a fair trial.

"L!" Mello put a hand over his own mouth, he had not meant to be that loud. "This doesn't look good, you know."

"Watari will not mind." Other than the flour incident, Watari had never really banned L from doing anything that he wanted, even as a child. Now that he was an adult, his surrogate father had even less room to scold, and was most likely kicking himself for allowing such leniency now that he'd been subject to the results. Not that scolding him would have done any good. But he could have at least put forth a bit more effort.

"Right. Right, of course. We just lie. I was studying with you and I fell asleep."

"That is almost exactly what Mello and I were doing."

Mello gave a nervous laugh. "Thank god you're such a fantastic liar."

L looked confused. Then shrugged off this sudden strange behavior, headed back to his desk, and resumed his work.

Mello opened the door for Watari, only half pretending to yawn and rub the sleep out of his eyes as he did so. Watari ruffled the child's hair, then picked him up. When Mello had been very young, he would throw fits whenever he wasn't being held. Then, just a couple of years later, decided that he was too tough for such childish things as hugs and kisses. That is, until his fondness of chocolate manifested. He was always especially affectionate to the ladies that served lunch and dinner, to scam extra servings of whatever chocolaty thing might be on the menu. And Watari, being a sucker for this behavior, and seemingly starved of a proper father-son relationship with the quirky L, always had a bar of the most expensive chocolate. The price was relatively small, a hug in return or a promise to behave for at least the next few hours. The latter was a promise that was broken more often than not but Watari always managed to be looking in the opposite direction at these times, preferring to let Roger take care of the disciplining.

"You should know better than to keep the children up at odd hours. They need sleep to keep their minds fresh. Mello and Near already strive to be just like you. I don't want them trying to develop insomnia next." Watari scolded but L wasn't listening, already deeply absorbed in his work.

"It's alright Watari, really. I couldn't sleep anyway. I guess I was too sugared up from last night. Where's my chocolate bar?" Watari pulled out a large bar, handing it over. He wondered if Mello had just come to expect it, or if he could actually smell it out. He shook the thought away as being far too ridiculous, even where the barefooted blond was concerned.

"You could have at least made him change into nightclothes and brush his hair. You look a mess child." From another pocket, the old man produced a small comb, trying to untangle the fine blond locks. The boy used to make quite a fuss at having his hair brushed, screaming when a comb tugged at a mass of knots. L was the only one of them to ever get Mello to sit still for it. It was odd how good he'd always been at it, considering the fact that no one had seen him so much as attempt to finger-comb his own in at least a decade.Watari frowned. He still saw the raven haired twenty three year old as a small child. This suddenly made him feel very, very elderly.

"Cheer up old man." The child must have been psychic. It was eerie.

"Go upstairs and change Mello. Then I might be convinced to have your lunch brought in here so you can get back to work. I suppose your reason for sleeping the day away was better than your roommate's."

"Matt passed out with his gameboy?"

"Your friend had yet to go to bed at 10:00am today, when the others were heading outside to play. I had to lock his toy up in Roger's desk." Mello made a mental note to retrieve the contraband for his friend on his way to their room. The redhead may have be a true insomniac. His sleeping patterns were the most similar to L's out of his three successors. His friend had once observed, upon hearing Mello complain about his need for sleep being important to his studies, that each of the three shared at least one characteristic of their idol. Mello, stubborn and obsessed with sweets. Near, obsessed with puzzles and socially oblivious ('socially /_retarded_/', the blond had corrected). Matt, calm under pressure and prone to going days without proper sleep.

Mello bounded into the room, full of energy despite having stayed up until daybreak and slept in a chair. He knew though, that the reason for his limitless energy today was due to the moments between the uncomfortable nap. He'd kissed somebody for the first time. Not just anybody either, _L _somebody. He wanted to tell the world. At least he wanted to tell the older boys who bragged about such things. Mello had always thought it was so stupid. Why waste time mashing your lips against somebody else when there was studying to do. There was a number one spot with his name on it, he didn't have time to worry about some girl, or whatever. Matt had been his sole supporter in this, though Mello sometimes wondered why. He reasoned it as Matt feeling about his games and computers the way he felt about work and beating Near.

The redhead was apparently dozing sprawled on his back on the bed, head touching the floor. It was a strange way to sleep for a normal person, but Matt did it often. Mello's thoughts again drifted to L. He set the pilfered handheld game on the sleeping boys chest, then rummaged through his bureau for clean clothes. He found himself carefully picking through items that were mostly the same, choosing the newest and best fitting from each drawer. The bottom drawer held pants, of course, the middle shirts, and the top socks and underwear. Items were carefully folded and tucked neatly into each drawer, arranged by oldest to newest, warmer winter type items on the left and thinner summery items on the right. Matt's clothes were tumbling out of his closet in a pile of both clean and dirty. Roger was sure to send someone in here on a laundry raid any day now.

While he was dressing, Matt had woken, probably enticed by the weight of the game on his chest. It was switched on immediately, Mario theme music cheerfully sounding over the noise of both television and radio that had been left on since last night.

"Where were you? I waited."

"Working with L."

"All night?"

"Duh." Mello turned so his friend could see his eye roll. He stood shirtless, one hand on his hip, black t-shirt hanging from the other. Having grown up together, it wasn't the first time either boy had seen the other without clothes on, and certainly with less than now. Though, this time, he couldn't help but notice that the redhead was actually _staring _at him. What? was there something on his face? "What are you looking at?" he asked just as a musical cartoony death sounded. Then, "You just died you know." when his friend failed to respond. Matt sighed, shaking his head and returning his attention to his game. "I'm heading back there. Probably won't be back again tonight. We'll crack the case in record time. Just me and L."

Mello hoped this was enough explanation to keep his friend from asking questions. He had no intention of working. L might kiss him again. He might...well, Mello wasn't exactly sure what he might do. He had a general idea of what people did with their...whatever they might be. What were they? 'Please god don't let this have been a dream,' he thought. Or a sin. It couldn't possibly have been that. It felt too good. Natural.

"Have fun then." The usual bored monotone sounded a touch...icy. Mello brushed it off. Matt was moody sometimes. Probably from the lack of sleep. Or maybe he had one of those eyestrain headaches. Roger was always warning that those goggles would have to be made prescription before the boy was 18 if he didn't quit staring at computer screens all the time.


	5. Mello Is Mine

Lots of updates in such a short time, I know but I've got up to chapter 10 written and ready to post. Very exciting.

Warnings: Nothing big, just some kissing. Its all very fluffy.

Enjoy.

CHAPTER 5

_**"MELLO IS MINE"**_

When Mello arrived at L's study, there were several surprises waiting for him. The first being lunch, which included a huge slice of chocolate cake. The second being several blankets and pillows spread out at the far end of the room. L explained that Watari had instructed that if they were going to work all night, then Mello at least ought to have a somewhat proper bed. Though L had no mustache of his own, he still managed a rather convincing parody of their caretaker's trademark I'm-serious-about-this mustache twitching.

The blond was slightly put off, however, when L immediately went back to work. "Mello is very distracting. I must work, and Mello must eat lunch. He is far too thin." The teen wanted to ask if L had been told this and was simply repeating, or if it was his own observation. It made him happy to think L was taking the time to pay attention to him at all. Either way, he sat down to eat. Once he was finished, it took L another half hour to finish reading something on his laptop, then type a rather long, boring e-mail, before attention was turned back to him.

For several moments, neither of them spoke as they just watched each other then, as before, the older man initiated contact, and the younger managed to let go of his insecurities if only for a second. That is, until the kiss got the better of both of them and turned from simply pressing their lips together, to the raven haired man gently sucking on Mello's bottom lip. Mello's mouth opened slightly in surprise, and then tongues met, the kiss quickly taking a turn from 'innocent' into something he'd only heard described, or saw in movies. The blond pulled back, eyes snapping open. He was suddenly very conscious of how obvious his inexperience must have been to the much older man.

"I've never done this before. Am I terrible? I'm probably terrible. You can tell me-"

L sighed, sounding almost irritated. "It was becoming quite a pleasurable experience, until Mello stopped. Was it not pleasurable for Mello? I admit I've never done that myself."

Mello laughed. "L, you're twenty three."

"And you're almost thirteen. What of it?"

"You can't expect me to believe that you've never french kissed anybody."

"Is that what its called?" he wondered aloud before addressing Mello again. "I've never kissed anybody. No, wait...my apologies. That was a lie." Mello shot his partner a scolding look. "I could have said that yesterday. Today I had never 'french kissed' somebody." He had to fight back the urge to laugh at Mello's almost comical expression of disbelief.

"You're kidding."

"I understand that this would be a completely inappropriate time for jokes. Had Mello ever kissed before yesterday?"

Mello thought back to the previous Christmas, unknowingly standing under the mistletoe. Linda had tried it, and Mello had responded by slapping the girl none too gently. Feelings hurt, Linda had since referred to Mello as a 'girlie boy', and as 'gay'. It had taken him several months to understand what she'd meant, having wondered what being happy had to do with not wanting his personal space invaded. Once he had deduced that she'd intended the use of the word as a homosexual slur, the two were no longer on pleasant speaking terms. Or any speaking terms, for that matter. He related the story to L, who also seemed confused at first.

"Women can be very irrational. Though Linda has always struck me as especially so." L had put an arm around Mello's waist during the tale, unknowingly at first but now he'd grown quite fond of the feeling the action had produced and tightened his hold, pulling the boy closer. "She has abandoned her pursuit now, yes?" Mello nodded, moving to close the remaining space between the two by climbing into L's lap, who was actually sitting normally for once.

"Mello is mine." The detective stated simply, slightly more emotion in his voice than when he made similar statements about cakes, or his favorite pen. However, the twelve year old seemed to get immense joy from this statement, nuzzling the detective's neck and breathing in the scent strawberry shampoo.

"Your hair smells...tasty." His fingers curled around a lock of black hair, deciding to see if it tasted like fruit too. He decided that it sort of did.

"Yes, Watari came up with an idea years ago that I might be more convinced to shower more regularly if my soaps smelled like things I enjoy eating. Though the thought seemed foolish at the time, I have to admit, however reluctantly, that he was right." L felt warm breath on his neck, and shivered despite the temperature of the room. "Mello is intentionally distracting."  
he commented.

Bright blue eyes met stormy gray blue. The blond tilted his head slightly to one side. He didn't understand what he had done. He'd merely been enjoying the smell of his partner's hair. Now upset with himself, he moved to get out of the older man's lap, thinking he'd made a mistake somehow. The arm that was still wrapped around him pulled him in closer.

"I did not ask Mello to stop. I was merely observing your intent to gain a reaction." The blond still looked confused. L mentally chastised himself for taking so long to read the boy. "Ah. I see. You had no idea you were breathing on my neck?"

"My face was in it. Of course I was breathing on it...I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"It bothered you so, I'm sorry."

L decided that talking about this was getting them nowhere. Maybe it would be better to lead by example. He put a hand behind the boys head, marvelling again at how soft the golden locks were. Nose pressed just under the young genius's ear, he opened his mouth slightly, just breathing against the warm skin. He felt Mello relax, leaning into his touch. Pleased with himself for creating that reaction with so little effort, he licked the boy's throat, then nibbled his earlobe, wondering when he'd gotten them pierced and how. The blond was making little noises that could have been mistaken as someone in pain, had he not been leaning into L's touch, his fingernails digging into L's shoulder.

"Mello does not give himself credit when credit is due. He is very beautiful." The boys cheeks went from flushed pink, to bright red. "Embarassed? He asks for attention, then when some is given, he blushes. Mello is complex. A very challenging puzzle. One I think I shall enjoy solving."


	6. Feline

A/N

Major fluffiness ahead but again, just some kissing. It gets a lot dirtier after the next chapter.

R&R if you enjoy, or even if you don't.

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CHAPTER 6

_**FELINE**_

Though L had only barely been able to discover the corner pieces of the puzzle that made up Mello internally, intellectually and emotionally speaking, he had put together the whole border, as well as some very interesting middle pieces, of the puzzle that made up Mello physically in the few weeks that had passed since their first encounter.

L now knew that there was a very sensitive spot, slightly below Mello's right ear that, when licked, or nipped gently, both made the boys breathing stop and eyes close. L thought this to be a somewhat dangerous spot to attend to, considering that the reactions made his own heart speed up considerably. It was rather like a very good sugar rush, or caffeine buzz. He made a mental note that if he was ever in short supply of either cake or coffee, he might use this to his advantage.

He also knew that when he placed his palm against the bare skin of the blonde's back, that he turned somewhat catlike. His back arched, his nails dug into L's back or shoulder, and he made this noise that sounded suspiciously like a purr. Up until that day he had been certain that not even all felines could purr, let alone a human being. But there was the proof, scooting forward in his lap, legs dangling off either side of the chair.

Then there was the other thing. Sitting this way, the boy's were doing something completely on their own, without their owner's consent, responding to even the slightest touch anywhere. It also seemed, that whenever this happened, L's own body responded. He had of course a decent idea what both of their bodies were suggesting, though the rational side of his brain was so far winning out. For what reason, other than probably some fear of the unknown and lack of knowledge, he wasn't completely sure. Some research was definitely in order.

Both seemed equally surprised when L hoisted the boy up by his waist and off of his own lap.

"What's the matter? What did I do?"

"Mello and I have barely uttered words to each other in..." L looked to the ceiling for a moment, calculating, "forty three minutes. Forty seven if you don't count when I tucked some stray hair behind Mello's ear and was told that it tickled."

"I thought that's what you wanted. And don't lie, it's obviously what you wanted." Mello said, referring to his obvious physical excitement.

"Yes, loose fitting as they might be, my jeans have become somewhat uncomfortable to be in. For at least forty minutes."

Mello smirked, looking devilish despite his wide eyes and flushed cheeks. "I know what to do. I've been to that class. And the older boys talk." Mello had begun to reach for the button at the detective's pants. The wheeled computer chair slid back, braked shortly by the wall behind him. It put no more than a few feet between them, but only for a few seconds before Mello closed the gap. "I really want to make you happy, L."

"I am very happy. I have not thought of my work for over an hour. Nor of cake and tea for even longer." He gestured to another wheeled chair nearby, which Mello slid in front of L, flopping down dejectedly and setting both his feet in L's lap. He pouted for a moment, before grinning evilly again and using a bare foot to rub against the older man's lap. The blond reminded him of one of those cartoon characters with a light bulb flashing above it's head a moment later, when the teen began to try using his toes (his toes!) to undo the offending button. L picked up the foot, kissing the big toe, before setting it back into his lap and rubbing each toe, then the instep, watching the boy forget his mission for the sake of the massage. L repeated the process on the other foot, happily placing another piece into the physical puzzle that was this boy, as well as possibly the much more challenging mental one.

The cat purred, satisfied to soak in the attention for a moment. He stretched out in his chair, toes flexing, nudging L's hand when he stopped massaging to watch the display. He continued his attention then, noting that a casual observer would see the way he sprawled in the seat, like he had and always would own it. What they might not see, not even with a mind half as great as L's, was that this was really a very insecure little boy, hoping he belonged somewhere, believing he was about to be proved wrong at any time. So he projected intelligence, confidence, danger, and now sex appeal, in hopes to be desired, or at least respectfully feared. L wondered who was to blame for this inferiority complex, if they were still alive so as to be brought to justice. It had to be a learned behavior. For it to have been there at birth was just too tragic a thought. It was one of those instances where irony just became too pathetic, like a flightless bird. He could not accept that such a captivating being, someone who'd managed to catch even his short attention span, could think so little of himself.

"To believe I am merely a part of this relationship for the physical aspects, Mello must think very little of me. He of all should know that I do not care for anything that does not have great significance. Everything I think or do must be meaningful. Any case that I have worked on, any criminal mind I have studied, has had to have layers upon layers to peel away, to dissect and study. There must be something very important to discover or else it can not interest me. Despite my inexperience, I know the mechanics of sexual behavior. I have always seen it as merely biology. Something I understand very well and so become bored with very easily. I never considered that physical closeness could come with depth, with things to discover other than the how or who with. So if I did not see meaning in what we are now involved in, we would not be engaging in sexual activities. This is not two bodies reacting to each other. When I look, it is Mihael Keehl and," L paused briefly, it had been so long since he'd said it aloud, the letters seemed wrong in that order, like repeating a word over and over until it sounds as if you're saying it wrong, even when you know you aren't "and L Lawliet."

Mello wanted to say he loved him too, even after such a short time of being together. Because, for the length of that speech, it boiled down to exactly that. He knew, though, that saying that would only cheapen the sentiment. L had said all the words he needed to. For once the blond didn't feel like he was overstaying his welcome, like he had to fight to hold onto his place. Because, L had not only said he loved him, but assured him that he was wanted, and did belong, and was worthy and special and all the other things he doubted he ever could be to anyone, especially the person he held most dear.

For all the words that had been offered, Mello only had a kiss to give as a reply. For once this seemed like more than enough.


	7. God With a Capital 'G'

CHAPTER 7

GOD WITH A CAPITAL 'G'

The relationship continued to progress smoothly and secretly. The couple finally decided to move some of the blonde's belongings into L's room. A favorite blanket, a toothbrush (Mello had been appalled when L suggested they share even when the older man had pointed out that they'd certainly already exchanged enough bodily fluids), extra clothes, school books. They spent weekends closed up in the bedroom, studying, talking, slowly taking the physical part of the relationship further. Very slowly, due to the fact that neither knew what the hell they were doing but, they were learning, and learning together, and that was the important part. From Friday night, until Mello went back to his classes the following Monday, they were alone, uninterrupted. That is, except for early Sunday morning.

The first weekend L woke (Yes, he actually slept! He'd found himself sleeping more often lately, the warm body beside him making it difficult to stay awake) to find himself clinging tightly to a pillow instead of his usual companion. Being the workaholic insomniac that he was, he assumed he'd lost track of the time and Monday had already come stealing Mello away to his studies. He booted up his laptop, welcomed by Matt's gift of the huge gothic letter. Then, in the bottom right corner of the screen, the date flashed Sunday, 6:03am. Classes would not have begun for another three hours at least. He climbed out of bed, pulling on a wrinkled pair of jeans from the day before. He searched the bathroom, no Mello. He even checked under the bed, remembering a younger Mello using such a hiding place from time to time after having flooded the boys' bathroom by way of exploding toilet, or having stuck wads of gum in a certain pajama-clad boy's hair.

At last, he had to abandon his search, assuming his...boyfriend (What a silly term) had gone out to play. Gone out to _play._Yes, it was thoughts like these that helped L see an outsider's negative reaction to his highly unorthodox relationship. Then, he reasoned that Mello was certainly more intelligent as well as more mature (not to mention, he didn't look much like a 12 year old boy either - his body seemed to have developed almost as quickly as his brilliant mind), than these naysayers despite the boy's age and reinforced his opinion on the matter. Age is not a factor if both parties are on the same level emotionally and intellectually. Besides, L figured that he met Mello halfway because he had never acted his age, and never would as long as he could help it.

"L?" Someone was whispering in his ear, gently shaking his shoulders. He must have fallen asleep sitting up again. "L!"

"Just sugar, no cream. Thank you." L sniffed the air, expecting a cup of tea to be shoved under his nose.

"Did you get my note?" The almost-thirteen year old giggled. "Oh, I guess you didn't. It's stuck to the back of your shirt." A post-it was then dangled in his face, held daintily between thumb and forefinger much like the way L would hold a spoon or a pen, even his cell phone. At first glance, the two could have been brothers, father and son perhaps, considering the vast amount of quirks they shared. L did not find this comparison disturbing, though, again, he knew others might, if it were to be worded wrong. Their similarities made him feel that much closer to the boy.

The note read:

_Gone to confession. Back in a few. Love, M._"What did you do?"

"I took the bus with Roger. He always takes me on Sundays. I've told you before."

"No, what did you do that would warrant the need for a confession?" A brilliant mind was sometimes very frustrating. While he knew the practices and holidays that went with the Catholic religion, he just couldn't quite grasp the need for most. A man crucified, worn as a decoration around ones neck. A stuffy little booth separated by a thin wall, where a faceless old man on the other side assigned beads to count for every indiscretion from blasphemy to murder.

"You don't repeat what you say in confession. It's for God's ears only." When the blond said 'god', L could hear the capitalized 'G', the reverence with which the word was uttered.

"As I understand, one 'confesses' aloud to a priest." L pointed out.

"Yes, but that's different. The priest is a man's connection between Heaven and Earth." There was a hint of frustration in Mello's voice but L couldn't help it. His scientific mind so often related religious conviction with ignorance that this point was hard to hear, and even harder to comprehend. A youth so unbelievably intelligent as Mello, speaking as if fairy tale monsters and omnipotent, faceless beings really existed, dictating how one should spend their short time on earth.

"Does Mello confess to his god about myself?" It wasn't the first time L had considered it. Mello prayed every night, kneeling by the bed. Occasionally scolding L for shamelessly staring while he did so. L had pointed out that one was supposed to close their eyes when saying prayers, to which Mello replied with how should he know, and anyway it was impossible when you knew someone was watching you.

"Please don't make this a fight. It's important to me. I don't want to go to hell," Mello all but pleaded, averting his eyes.

"I am not upset, merely curious." L knew he should be hurt if Mello was indeed asking forgiveness for loving him. Homosexuality was, ridiculously enough, a mortal sin. As was any sexual behavior before marriage, cursing, and a list of other fun activities. "I am asking Mello as his lover, nothing more."

The blond sighed, sometimes the guilt was overwhelming. He felt guilty for carrying out a sexual relationship with another man. He felt guilty for enjoying even though he knew the seriousness of his indiscretion. But, perhaps most of all, he felt guilty about feeling guilty about it. Because, as his older lover had so often stated, this was more than just two bodies. This was two souls. "I confess to kissing a man. To being in love with a man. To fantasizing about," Mello blushed, lowering his eyes from the older man's intense gaze, "making love to a man." The blond was fighting back tears now, because though he was usually very strong, his religion was always something he'd been very serious about, even more so than becoming L's successor. he took a deep breath to steady himself. "But it's not the acts that I ask forgiveness for, it's the fact that I don't feel bad when we're together. It doesn't feel wrong." He pulled the rosary from it's place tucked inside his t-shirt, clutching it tightly, felt it digging into his palm. "I know it's wrong and I don't care."

"How does the priest feel about this admission?"

"He asked if I thought love was a sin."

"And?"

"A man is not to lie with another man as he lies with a woman."

"But you do not lie with women at all..."

Mello groaned, "L, be serious!"

"I am being serious...but more importantly, am I merely another man to Mello? I have a difficult time believing that I could be picked out of a crowd of men for my sexual appeal." L was aware of his untraditional looks, part of which was fault of genetics, another of unusual habits and general lazyness when it came to grooming. "Mello could easily be. He is exotic and exceptionally beautiful. I often notice the way other men look at him. I don't like it."

Mello laughed despite himself at L's unusual commentary as he set his rosary back in place. It was hard to tell if L was feeling insecure, or just making cold observations. It was true that he wasn't traditionally good looking, but somehow he was the first man (or person at all) that Mello had ever looked at and felt drawn to. It ached to not be touching him. Mello thought he was beautiful.

L saw the religious determination fading, taking the opportunity to hold the hand that had just been clinging to the abandoned symbol of faith. The teen had been so young when he was orphaned. Yet somehow the beliefs had been etched upon his soul, carved too deeply to scratch out (if they get them when they're children, they'll have them for life). He may never give it up completely, but L was determined to make him give up this one part. He would not spend the rest of their lives being the subject of Catholic angst, and he would never allow Mello to leave him. Not now. It was too late. He'd become...attached. L had always had trouble allowing other children to play with his toys as a child. Even now, as a full grown man, he was reluctant to share. Mello was his now and that was that. End of argument. And if there really was a god, if he'd been wrong in his calculations somewhere along the way (highly unlikely. L was _/never/_ wrong), he dared even him to defy this.

The detective pulled the boy to his lap, expecting a struggle, but met with none. He reached into his soft black tshirt, lifting out the offending symbol. It didn't look threatening, though there it hung, silently promising to make his life difficult, to threaten his happiness. And that just wouldn't do. Despite having been pressed against the teens warm chest, the red glass beads of the rosary were quite cold. He decided, selfishly, that if for no other reason, he hated the damned thing for it's fortune. For being able to spend more time with /_his/ _Mello than L himself. It was always wrapped around Mello's slim throat, caressing the soft skin there, pressed against his thin chest. He pulled it over the boy's head, tossing it carelessly onto a pile of paperwork on his desk.

The teen's hand immediately went to his neck, the bareness making him feel naked, vulnerable. Then the detectives warm lips were trailing a path to cover his throat, making up for the loss. He'd hooked a finger in the black t-shirt, pulling the material down as far as it would stretch, kissing across the collar bones. His other hand was at the boy's back, sliding up underneath the thin material. The bones in Mello's back felt almost sharp, he was definitely too thin. L made a mental note. He would have to remedy that.

Mello's breathing was getting faster, becoming shallow, uneven. Both of L's hands were under his shirt now, sliding it up, exposing more smooth, pale skin, a slightly concave stomach, ribs, chest.

"I was not aware the male body responded in this way when aroused." L observed out loud, more to himself than anything else as he was prone to doing.

"Huh?" Mello sounded disoriented, his mind too clouded with pleasure to comprehend. When finally removing Mello's shirt completely, L had noted that the teen's nipples had hardened slightly, turning pinker, almost resembling the coloring of his cheeks. He licked one experimentally, gaining a moan in return. Seeing that as a very desirable response, he lightly nipped the other. Sharp nails dug into his back. Satisfied with himself, the detective sucked on the sensitive flesh, this produced an even more desirable effect, and he was surprised to find his own body responding to the other's obvious pleasure. "God, L..."

"Yes, I am here. Though I see no sign of him in the room. I should hope that if Mello does, he will warn me. I believe that I am committing a rather unforgivable sin in his eyes."

"L?"

"Yes?"

"Shut Up..."

Reviews? Pretty please? I'm beginning to think no one likes this thing.


	8. Twisted

A/N: In this chapter, we see a little of Matt, and things start getting kind of dirty...

Thank you Charli-san for your review! I'm really glad to hear that you thought my characterization was accurate. This is my first Death Note fic, and I wasn't so sure how I did. L can be very difficult to write. Anyway, I'm happy you're enjoying it, and I'll do my best to keep it up!

And look! An update just for you!

* * *

CHAPTER 8

TWISTED

Since the start of his relationship with L, Mello had felt himself calming a little. He felt relaxed enough that getting top scores and beating Near didn't seem quite as important as it had before. So, with his thirteenth birthday just two weeks away, he was thinking mostly of finishing his assignments as soon as possible to go spend another evening with his boyfriend (L had scoffed at the term at first, stating that he himself was a man, not a 'boy', and they most certainly were not merely 'friends', which had made Mello blush at the time). This is why he almost ran straight into Matt, who was rushing down the hall, goggles flapping around his neck for once instead of hiding his intense green eyes.

"Mello!" Matt got out, before putting out a hand on the wall to steady himself while he caught his breath. Matt was certainly never involved in sports like most the other children. His antisocial nature often kept him indoors, so he was not used to running. Also Mello suspected that his friend had taken up smoking, since he often smelled like some of the instructors that had the same habit, and was always chewing gum or popping mints whenever Roger was nearby.

"Breathe, dude. That's extremely hazardous to your health by the way."

"Yeah, a good run will do you in." The redhead had finally caught his breath and was bouncing with uncharacteristic excitement.

"I meant the smoking. Don't you know how many people die every year from lung cancer and Emphysema? Where are you getting them from anyway?"

"Mello! Jesus Christ, I come to bring you the greatest news of the century and you're trying to out me in front of all these nice, honest, Roger fearing people." Matt paused, reaching into one of his many pants pockets for a pack of gum. He chewed the piece for a moment before continuing. "And I'm not getting anything from anywhere."

"Uh huh. What's up Matt? I have a shitload of work to finish before classes tomorrow."

"Maybe I'll just keep it to myself." Matt pulled his goggles back over his eyes (Mello had always suspected that they served as some sort of security blanket), though his friend had already read the signs of the bad mood brewing there.

"Just spill, now, before I kill you right here."

"You're amazing, Mello, but even you can't kill me with just a look. And you're smart enough not to do it in front of this many witnesses."

"My bookbag is quite heavy, and you're starting to piss me off. You should know better than anyone that I hate this guessing game shit."

"/_Fine/_. I just wanted to tell you that you scored over Near. You pwned his ass in almost every subject."

He could have kissed his roommate right there, if there wasn't an L waiting for him, just a flight of stairs and a few doors between them. But there was, so he could forget this whole Near business, leave it until tomorrow. However, he had missed his friend, who seemed so very...proud of him right now. An odd thing that, considering that the other boy was supposed to be in competition with him. He suspected Matt was just naturally brilliant however, just happening to be third because he refused to put forth the effort. He'd obviously had never considered the position was of any great importance.

And Mello was right. Matt knew how much Mello wanted this. He knew how important it was to him, how much it hurt to see someone like _Near_, who never seemed to care much about anything always get the better of him. He'd decided a long time ago that he would would much rather be the best friend of number one, than earn the position himself (And Mello was exceptional beautiful, they way his eyes would light up due to a victory over near...). Besides, he couldn't see himself being the next L. Not in a million years. He was far too lazy for that kind of pressure. He'd never understand why anyone would actually /_want/_ to carry the weight of justice on their shoulders.

Matt sighed. Mello was spacing out again. Maybe he was just overwhelmed with joy. So he did what any good best friend would do. He grabbed the blonde's hand, pulling him down the hall to where the scores had been posted. Final exams had yet to be finished, but so far Mello had crept slightly above his rival in scores this time around. By only four points but, hey, four points was four points. The younger of the best friends always looked forward to these times when the usually second ranking teen crept into first place. He'd memorized the reaction, it was the same each time. First came shock, which was quickly masked because of course the genius wasn't surprised at just how amazing he was. Then came smug satisfaction at beating the little 'albino abomination'. Finally, there came the sincere, tranquil smile of a boy who was for a moment, at peace with everything in the world. Something so silly like test scores brought so much /_joy/ _for Mello.

This time, however, the blond just shrugged. It was nice, but he'd managed to discover something that made him feel so much better. So much more...important. For the first time in his life, he felt needed. Wanted. And there was no competition so he hadn't had to nearly kill himself working to achieve it.

"It's really real. I watched Roger post it this morning. Must be all your extra work with L really paid off." Matt observed the peculiar, hazy smile that spread across his friend's features at the mention the codename. "C'mon, Mell! Why aren't you celebrating? Or chasing down Near to rub it in his face. Not that that's such a nice thing to do, but seriously Mello, I'll go get him if it'll wake you up. You're really creeping me out dude." Mello sighed.

"Matt, you ever think how it's kind of fucked up?"

Matt raised an eyebrow and frowned. "You and Near? Yeah, I guess. It's always been like that, though. You were fighting over whose was the best finger painting."

"No, not that...You do realize that L has to die for any of this to really matter? That's what a successor does. He takes over when his mentor is not longer able to fulfill his duties, either by retirement, or...death." Just the thought of it made Mello's pulse quicken and his stomach churn.

They all knew it. How sick it was, twisted even, that there were several kids competing to replace someone who hadn't even died yet. Someone who they lived with, ate lunch with, received Christmas presents from. Some of the newer children avoided the man when he walked through the halls. It didn't help that he already looked like the walking dead (not that Mello minded or anything). It was understood that this whole place had been created to prepare a fortunate boy or girl to take the throne when, not if, the great L finally lost a battle. There were children there who believed the man was cursed. They would not look his way, would not even sit in a chair he'd occupied. With this on everyone's mind, Mello and Near always fought their small battles. They both sought approval from the very soul who had to die for either to win the war.

"You never said any of this before."

"Well, I'm saying it now. I don't want to be L. I want to be w-" he'd almost outed it right there. He had to stop being so damned emotional. He and L had talked about this before, and strangely enough, it was Mello who'd wanted to keep their relationship a secret. L didn't seem to care either way, unaffected by the knowledge that most people would not accept them. He took several deep breaths, cleared his throat. "I want to work _with _him. Then there'd be no need for successor." Again, his stomach turned. The longer it went on, the more terrifying the conversation became. Suddenly all he wanted was to make sure L was alright. To see for his own eyes that L, his lover (was that the right word? They had not gone so far as to make love yet, though the thought of it made Mello's spine tingle and his heart race), was alive and breathing, fully intact.

"You've been obsessed with this for years, Mello. I should know, I'm the one that's been on damage control every time Near beat you. A couple of study sessions and you just don't give a shit anymore?"

Matt wasn't stupid, and despite his lack of effort (much to both Roger and Watari's disdain) everyone knew it. They wouldn't have kept him at the institution if he was anything but brilliant. Yet for weeks he didn't see the signs. He didn't question why his friend was spending more and more time with their mentor. He ignored the way Mello's eyes brightened at the mention of the detective's name, all the while fighting the jealously that was subconsciously growing in his own thoughts, trying to brush it all off as something else, though he couldn't, for the life of him, figure out what..

A few weeks prior, the children had had to partner up for a science project. Mello's partner had been picked for him, since he and Matt working together often ended with disastrous effects. Some girl with the hots for Mello had been the lucky name drawn. Matt watched her try to sneak contact with the blond, 'accidently' brushing his hand when reaching for something, staring at his ass when he'd worn a pair of jeans much tighter than ones he usually did. Matt had decided a long time ago that he was indeed gay, though never before having a serious crush on anyone. It must have been true about absence making the heart grow fonder, since he seemed even more enamored with his best friend the more time they spent apart. The few fleeting moments each day that they spoke were both exciting and heart wrenching at the same time.

As of late, after it finally dawned on him, he had been working up the courage to ask the blond if he could ever feel the same way. The older boy seemed to be teasing him intentionally now, what with the tighter clothing, even going to far as to apply eyeliner around his cat-like eyes. He'd always been beautiful but, never.../_sexy/_. And Matt had dreamed that this sudden extra grooming could be a possible invitation to him. But he /_knew/ _it was for someone else. It hurt like hell but, deep down, he knew it. Mail Jeevas was anything but stupid.

"Do I have something on my face?" The blond frowned, running a finger under each eye, checking to make sure the liner hadn't smeared out of place. "Matt, you're staring. It's freaking me out." He waved a hand in front of the orange tinted goggles.

"You better head up there, he'll be wondering what's keeping you. I don't want to be the one in the way," he said, shocked by his own bitter tone. Bitter. That was a new emotion for him. Though he'd been experiencing a lot of new feelings lately so he really shouldn't have been surprised.

Mello layed a hand on his friend's shoulder. A gesture that had taken some time to be accepted during their long friendship. Matt had a thing about touching, much like a lot of the other kids at Whammy's. Why, was something Matt didn't care to discuss so Mello left him to it, fully understanding. There were plenty of things he'd rather not share himself but despite it all, he had forced Matt to allow such comfort, knowing his friend really needed it and was just denying himself out of stubborn pride.

"Don't touch me!" Mello actually flinched at his friend's unusually harsh tone. Matt was usually so calm, unfazed by the world around him. This behavior was so...foreign. Mello didn't know what to do with it.

"Matt, we're always going to be best friends," he tried but Matt just shook his head, pushing Mello back.

"It's not enough. I don't want to be fucking _friends _Mello," Matt seethed, but the innuendo was lost on Mello, who for the first time in his life seemed to be having what was called a 'blond moment'.

L had just made him feel so good about their relationship. He'd been assured that there was absolutely nothing wrong with it. Even where his faith was concerned. Now the guilt was back, but for a different reason. How could he have ignored the only other person who really cared for him, the first person to befriend him when he'd come to the house, scared, and alone, and missing his mother and father. And all because he'd been too involved with L. Now Matt thought he hated him, thought he was replacing his friendship with L's. He desperately wanted to explain how the two relationships were different, that there was no reason that they couldn't coexist without complication, but it was still to early to admit the truth to anybody. Even Matt. L had a reputation, and Mello could potentially be kicked out of school. If only he could smooth things over some other way.

Matt was so angry. Scratch that. He was fucking _pissed._But this was so, so wrong. He may have hated Mello in those few moments, but he couldn't see him like this. Feeling guilty for something he obviously had no control over. He wanted to hug him and apologize for lashing out. That was the blonde's job, though. He, himself hated initiating contact. Hugging made him feel claustrophobic, like being stuck in an elevator with too many people. He was also being selfish. If Mello was happy, then he was happy. At least, that's the way it had always been. The only things he craved were new games, new security systems to hack, and right this minute he really craved a cigarette. Matt sighed.

"Sorry Mello. I'm just being a dick 'cause I couldn't manage to sneak out this morning and have a smoke. Withdrawal's a bitch, you know." Matt exited the building, faking a smile and waving on his way out, leaving his friend very confused, with no chance to respond.

A thought occured to Mello, processing the redhead's final statement. He was feeling some of the very same effects, craving something he knew he shouldn't. He couldn't say whose drug would kill them faster, though he knew which was more satisfying.

By the time he reached L's room, Mello had almost forgotten the strange conversation in the hallway. Too much stimulus in one day had left him feeling ready to curl up in bed, though it was not even dinnertime yet. Maybe a small nap would clear his mind, then L might be convinced to come sit with himself and Matt.

Obviously, L had no intention of leaving the room, the blond quickly discovered. As soon as the door had been shut and locked his back was pressed against it. Five long spidery fingers were twirling in his hair, the other hand reaching to grab his ass. He'd hoped his appearance today would have this kind of effect, though was not expecting quite this much forwardness. In turn, he instinctively wrapped a leg around the older man's waist, bringing their bodies, their hips, as close together as he could. He wondered what his boyfriend had been doing all afternoon, he was obviously already very turned on. His own body responded, pushing his pensive thoughts out of the way, blood rushing out of his brain to assist the response in his jeans.

"What brought this on?" Mello managed to ask in between kisses.

"I was doing some research, and it proved to be rather...stimulating. Not nearly as stimulating as our current entanglement, but stimulating none the less."

"Crime gets you hot?"

L raised an eyebrow, more so at the odd slang than the accusation. He jerked his head towards the computer screen in response. There were several full color images of men similarly 'entangled', though with considerably less clothing, and also not nearly as attractive, Mello decided.

"You pervert. Matt has some of that kind of 'research' saved on his computer. Though I'm pretty sure they call it pornography." Usually this word brought blushes or giggles to the blond, but he'd lately been more and more comfortable with his own sexuality.

"Wammy's collection of books, vast as it is, has little on the subject. And this is not something I'd like to discuss with Watari." An advertisement appeared on the screen then, a woman's voice asking if they'd like to come visit her page, causing both Mello and L to look at the computer strangely before L continued. "Gathering the appropriate information has been a rather frustrating experience for me."

"I see that." Mello said as he wrapped the other leg around his partner's waist as L effortlessly lifted his nearly weightless form into his arms to support him, his back still pressed against the wall. The position ultimately solved the problem that their height differences made, as L no longer had to bend so low to receive the kisses the blond was trying to give.

"Mello is much less prone to embarrassment these days." The detective mumbled against the boys lips, unwilling to separate for even a second. He was becoming aware that the friction their bodies made as their hips instinctively moved against one another was soon going to create an early, and not very satisfying end to his planned evening. All of his research would go to waste and that would simply not do.

* * *

So? What did you think?


	9. Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn

A/N: This chapter's a little longer than the others...that might make me a bit of a pervert but, oh well. I'm comfortable with that.

Lemon. Kinda graphic. VERY FLUFFY.

Ye be warned.

Also, thank you to my anonymous reviewer. I greatly appreciate your feedback and encouragement. It was rather inspiring. And I'm terribly sorry about the cliffhangers but, come on. It wouldn't be any fun without them.

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CHAPTER 9

"FRANKLY, MY DEAR, I DON'T GIVE A DAMN."

L somehow managed to carry the boy to his bed, noting how each step caused his zipper to dig painfully into his erection. He lamented not having put his boxers on this morning, which may have made the situation somewhat more comfortable. He also wondered how he was possibly containing his excitement with the blond pressed tight against him, nibbling at his collar bones. He also wondered how the teen was managing, considering his own lack of experience and age. There was still enough blood left in his brain for him to question what he was about to do. Though he wanted it very very much, if they went through with this, there was no turning back. If it really was as wrong as they both sometimes feared, then this could be a grand mistake. He set the boy down, untangling their limbs and stepping back.

Mello lay back, resting his head on a mass of pillows and blankets. His eyes closed, and lips parted, hand immediately sliding beneath the waistband of his jeans. L thought that this action alone might undo him right then, as he watched the boy begin to pleasure himself. One knee bent, and his toes curled, moaning L's name. It occurred to the detective that this was slightly unfair, considering that he was currently doing nothing but /_watching_/.

"Mello intends to ruin my plans."

If he took no action, L realized that they'd both be coming to orgasm quickly. He moved onto the bed, taking hold of Mello's wrist. The blonde's eyes opened, half lidded and unfocused. His back was arching slightly, reminding L of the images he'd been viewing earlier. There were so many things he could do with his hands and mouth to elicit that response, if his research had been accurate. He wanted to try them all. Explore every inch of Mello's lithe form, taste the pale skin to see if he was as sweet as all the chocolate he consumed.

"We have the rest of the evening. There's no need to rush." Self restraint was not one of the detective's virtues, so when the blond sat up, pulling at the older man's loose jeans, he could not bring himself to stop him. The clothing slid off his own thin, pale hips, leaving him naked from the waist down. Mello's eyes widened. They had been sleeping in the same bed, had seen each other mostly naked more than once, but never when they both knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that something very important and definitely life changing was going to happen. L kicked his jeans to the side so as not to become entangled in them later, while he let the blond pull his long sleeved shirt over his head. "This is highly unfair," L complained.

"I can fix that." The blond smirked, yanking his own shirt over his head. L was fascinated again at the sight, watching the boy's chest rise and fall with the quick breaths he was taking. Mello moved his hand down his own chest, to his stomach, watching L's eyes follow the movements. He shivered when his fingers reached the button of his jeans and slid the zipper down slowly.

"Mello is teasing. It is not fair."

In all honesty, he really hadn't meant to tease, it just felt good but, that's when it occurred to Mello that L wanted him. He /_really_/ wanted him and he was completely in control of the other man's pleasure. He knew that L would never force him to do anything he didn't want to so, Mello was calling the shots. All he had to do was say 'no' and that was that. The knowledge suddenly made him feel very...powerful. Powerful and /special/. Two things he'd never felt before in his life.

L lay down beside him, covered Mello's hand with his own, moving it aside to finish the task himself. Now that they were both naked, it seemed to the detective like this was his last chance. A lesser man might have reasoned that it was already too late, refusing to turn back out of selfishness. But L cared deeply about Mello. He loved him, he'd never felt anything like this before, and he did not want him to feel pressured now, or regretful later. From what he'd learned, losing one's virginity was an incredibly important milestone in every young person's life. Something never to be taken lightly. L propped himself up on one elbow so he could see Mello's face more clearly. He held the boy's hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing the tips of each finger.

"We do not have to continue if you really don't want to. I will not love you any less if you ask me to stop."

Mello sighed in frustration, a flair of his former, angrier self manifesting for a moment. The older man seemed determined to ruin the mood. "You wouldn't have gotten this far if I didn't want it. I don't do anything if I'm not getting something out of it."

"I do not doubt that, yet...you have always seemed eager to please where I am concerned."

"I'm a whore for attention, always will be."

Attempting to retrieve the mood, Mello crawled to L, his cat-like grin making him look slightly insane. He climbed in L's lap, pushing at his shoulders in an attempt to get the detective to lie back on the bed, but the detective was stronger, and grabbed the blonde's upper arms, applying enough pressure to freeze Mello in his place.

"You are never to use that word to describe yourself again. I will not allow myself to be used in order to fuel your insecurities," he said, his smooth baritone taking on a much harsher tone than Mello was used to.

"It's just a fucking expression," he grumbled but L was not convinced.

"Not to Mello. He still thinks very little of himself, despite my best efforts to prove him wrong."

L released his grip, holding stern eye contact with the younger boy. In that moment, he decided that Mello's psyche was far more damaged than he ever had realized. Whatever, /_whoever_/ had done it, he was going to undo it. Then maybe he would find them and bring them to justice. It was his duty, for L /_was_/ justice, and Mello was L's.

He made the boy lay down, adding extra pillows behind his head. Mello shut his eyes, attempting again to touch himself. L was not so easily distracted this time, however. He felt the need to worship his blond angel, make him feel higher than the god he prayed to.

"No." There was such authority in that one word that Mello froze again, holding his breath, wondering if L was angry, and what he might do. If he would /_hurt_/ him. Then came the sudden sensation of something warmer and wetter than his hand, surrounding his now frustratingly painful erection. It made his eyelids snap open, his jaw drop. It felt so much better than he could have imagined. He knew what the fuss was all about now. This was better than chocolate. Chocolate was no longer even on the menu.

Mello was chewing on his own fingers, attempting to stifle his loud gasps and moans. The room was suddenly so very hot, his own body felt like it might burst into flames, igniting at his hips and burning them both. There was a strange tingling sensation low in his belly and felt as if all the nerves in his extremities were being drawn up into his center. His fingers and toes were numb, eyes open but unseeing but he could feel L's stormy gray blue eyes tilting up to watch his reactions. His hips moved up towards L's mouth on their own accord, desperate for more of that incredible sensation but the detective used one hand to gently push them back into the bed, the spidery finger's grip causing his legs to open and fall back.

L wondered if he might lose himself right there, from visual stimulation alone, watching the blond's reactions to his touch. Mello chewed his fingers, tugged at his own hair, hips still pushing up against L's hand, little moans and gasps escaping from his slightly parted lips. L hoped the walls were thick here, not for fear of being found out, but because these reactions were meant for his ears alone. They were caused by his hands, his mouth, and therefore belonged to him. This moment was not meant to be shared with anyone other than his beautiful lover.

Mello was so lost in the sensation that he almost didn't think to warn the older man of the orgasm that he knew was creeping up on him. He was barely forming coherent thought, not certain that he'd be able to form sentences (or if he'd ever be able to again), not sure what words to say even if he could. "L. I..." The older man was still grasping his hip, holding him down. He desperately wanted to move up into the sensation when he came, suddenly, the orgasm hitting him like a brick to the chest, seeming to knock him right out of his own skin and into a place where sound and thought and time didn't exist. Only one thing was for certain: Masturbation was nothing compared to whatever the hell had just happened.

L sat back after a moment, surprised that Mello did not taste like sweets, and that he really didn't mind. The boy was still catching his breath, eyes shut tight, mumbling things like 'god' (not capitalized), and 'fuck' and other things that were mostly either unrecognizable or didn't make sense. Finally, the blond stared up at him, blue eyes clear and focused, looking him up and down. One yellow eyebrow arched in question, the ability to do so a recessive gene, L noted. Another fun fact to relate to his love.

"You're still hard." The blond stated, attempting to sit up with some difficulty, being slightly dizzy still as the blood had not yet been given enough time to return to his brain. "Let me help."

"I intended tonight to be about you. For once, I refuse to be selfish."

"L. I _/want/ _to help," Mello told him. For a brief moment, his insecurities about his lack of experience came creeping back. What if he didn't please L? Would he still love him? But he forced them to the back of his mind. That was ridiculous. L knew just as much about this as he did, it was a learning experience for both of them. Besides, it was _/L/_. He was a lot of things - selfish, blunt, stubborn, sometimes arrogant and egotistical - but shallow was not on of them.

L stared down at the boy. Well. Who was he to argue with that? And he was fairly sure his body would never forgive him should he do so.

Mello's body was already recovering, deciding on it's own that they were indeed not finished, as he watched L walk across the room, digging through his desk drawers. Mello noted that the detective was shaped very much like himself, very thin, though taller and paler. He also decided that L had a rather nice ass. His back and shoulders looked equally attractive, lean muscle developed throughout. He practiced several styles of martial arts, which was probably what to credit his lovely shape to.

L returned with a plastic bottle, setting it at the foot of the bed. "I want to remind you that you can still stop this at any time. I promise not to get angry." He took several moments to wrap his arms around his lover, brushing back strands of sweat drenched hair, kissing his forhead, cheeks, lips, and neck. "I have never done this before. I understand that it can be somewhat...painful at first. Though quite pleasurable. Even more so than oral sex." Mello found that hard to believe, but trusted that L knew /_everything_/.

The teen had a vague idea of what was going on, having done some 'research' on his own, and heard stories. Theirs was not the first homosexual relationship at Wammy's House. Still, he was nervous, to say the least, when L reached for the bottle of lube, squeezing a generous amount into his hand. At first he used the lubricant to stroke his lover's already hard dick back to it's previous state. Mello squirmed under the touch, impatient, wanting to share his pleasure, to satisfy L. Finally, L stopped to reach for a pillow, slipping it under the boy's hips. It was an odd position, leaving him feeling somehow even more exposed.

L retreated again, spilling more lube into his hand, coating his fingers. Those hands had come to fascinate Mello, though he had not realized why until now, when he thought of what they could be used for.

"L," Mello whined. "Hurry up."

"I believe that I've already explained that without proper consideration, this could be quite uncomfortable. You will survive the wait."

"Liar," the blond accused. Though his complaints were soon silenced when L came to lay between his legs, holding himself above the boy with one arm. He bent to lick and bite a nipple, knowing the effect it had on the boy, whose back arched. L continued his attentions, distracting the boy as he slipped his hand between his thighs. He bit down on the sensitive flesh he had been concentrating on as he slipped a single digit into his lover. He'd read that men would often bite down on a woman's earlobe when taking their virginity to distract them from the pain (not that he considered Mello to be a female. He doubted he'd be attracted to him if he was...). He supposed this would do just as well.

The blond's back arched off the bed, hips pushing up into L's, causing them both to shiver. He wasn't sure where the pleasure or pain was coming from, the sensations were mingling together. His muscles tensed at the intrusion, until the single thin digit bent upwards, finding the spot it was searching for.

"Stop?" L questioned.

"No, no. God, no." This sensation was entirely different than it had been when L's mouth had brought him to orgasm the first time. His muscles relaxed, and he felt himself pushing his hips down in an effort to get more pressure on that /spot/. "W- what the hell is-" his words were cut off when a second finger joined the first, still pressing on that spot. He couldn't help but think that for a virgin, L sure as hell knew what he was doing.

"Does it hurt?"

"No. Feels. Too. Good." Mello whimpered, though confused by his own words. The fingers slid back out and he whimpered again, this time for the loss of sensation, until they were pushed back in, once again hitting what L would later explain was his prostate. And there was that 'too good' feeling again. So good it almost hurt but instead of telling L to stop, he never wanted it to end...Mello had never been a believer in the 'less is more' philosophy.

When his lover finally added a third finger, the pleasure crossed slightly into pain. L was trying desperately to take this as slow as possible, being as tender and gentle as he could. He hated that he had to cause any pain at all, even combined with the sensations that felt 'too good'. He made a note to experiment himself, so he could better sympathize, as well as see what all the fuss was about.

"L, please." The boy's face was slick with sweat, plastering his bangs to his forehead. "I'll come again if you don't..."

"If I don't what?" L wanted him to ask for it, to be sure he really wanted this (not to mention it was a pretty big boost for his ego...). Though the wait was near killing him.

"Please, fuck me." Though Mello's crass words came as no surprise to L, he didn't like them. The phrase made this sound so cheap. Even a bit degrading.

"I will never, ever do that to you." L murmured close to his ear, stopping his movements, but still keeping steady pressure on Mello's prostate. Almost as if to punish him.

"Damn it, L!" Mello growled in frustration. "Make. Love. To. Me. Now." Each word was punctuated by deep intakes of breath. The older man slowly pulled his fingers back out of the boy, reaching behind him for more lube. His hand coated his own ignored erection, which threatened to take care of it's problem with that small touch. Crawling between Mello's legs, he bent both of Mello's knees, pushing them up toward his chest, having read that this might make the next part easier on him. He guided one hand underneath boys back, lifting his hips further up. His own body screamed at him to get on with it but he ignored his libido. This was for both of them and to thank Mello for sacrificing so much, L would make sure his lover was completely satisfied before tending to his own carnal needs.

"Mello," the blond's eyes were squeezed tight, he was expecting this to hurt but he wanted it so much. He wanted /L/. More than anything, he just wanted to be closer to the older man. Even if it was considered so very, very. He decided he didn't give a shit anymore and if anyone else did - well, they could just go fuck themselves. "Look at me." Bright blue eyes met gray-blue, the first pair pleading, the second looking on in concern. The truth was he was probably just as nervous as his younger counterpart but he'd reminded himself that he was a genius. If he could solve a seemingly impossible murder case in under 24 hours, he could do this.

"Please..." he whispered, and L gave in finally, pushing in slowly, feeling the muscles attempt to both keep him trapped right there and push him out in the same instance. It was almost too much. Then the younger boy moved his hips to guide his lover further inside. L worried that it would be much more difficult to find the spot that made this pleasurable for the blond, but his partner's body acted on it's own, pushing them together until it found what it was looking for.

Mello was biting his lip, eyes rolling back. L kissed the abused flesh, to which he was rewarded by his lover's mouth parting, letting him invade his body in yet another way. Mello's foot was digging into the detective's calf muscle, leg having tangled itself loosely around L's. The dark haired man let himself push his hips forward, becoming as closely connected with the other body as he could. Mello's other leg came up around his waist, holding him in the position.

"This...could prove to be...very frustrating for the both of us if you do not allow me to...move." L desperately tried to keep his voice even, to calm his breathing, remain in control of his own body but it became harder and harder with every passing second (very unlike him). The blonde's legs loosened their hold, though other muscles still threatened to hold him in place. L was finding it quite impossible to concentrate then. He was overwhelmed with physical sensation, as well as the emotional connection that the act implied (He never thought he'd be such a romantic...). He could not imagine how other humans had casual sex. To be let inside another's body and not fully appreciate the intimacy of it ranked right at the top of the worst of the worst, next to, if not higher, than murder.

It was L's sole mission to make this the most pleasurable experience possible for Mello. So every movement that stole the boy's breath, or made him utter L's name, every time nails dragged down his back, he was brought closer to climax. It was the other's pleasure that felt better than the muscles squeezing him at every thrust. L's hand slipped between their bodies, grasping the blonde's erection so the boy could come again before himself, since he had no idea how much longer he could hold back. When at last Mello finally did reach orgasm, for the second time that evening, L stopped, beginning to pull out of his lover, fully prepared to finish himself off with his own hand (another thing he'd read was how sensitive the human body was after orgasm, almost to the point of pain), but those strong, skinny legs were wrapped around his waist too tightly for him to leave.

"Don't. Even. Think. About. It." L wanted to argue the point, but the blond was determined to have his own way (so very Mello-like), and it still felt so good, especially now that post-orgasmic muscle spasms were igniting that warm, fuzzyness that promised his release. And when the blond whispered, "I want you to come inside me," those bright blue eyes still clouded with lust, staring straight into his own, that was it. It was so dirty, yet incredibly intimate, and it was all L could take.

The detective had masturbated before, of course, only slightly less than normal males his age, and usually only when absolutely necessary for his own comfort, but this was completely different. Inside another body, the intense pleasure lasted so much longer, was so much more satisfying. He found himself having to fight not to collapse against his lover, quickly losing the battle despite his efforts.

"I should get up." L reasoned after finally catching his breath and regaining some strength.

"No, L, you really shouldn't. Now shut the hell up and lay still." The teen yawned, obviously exhausted, yet unwilling to sleep. L smiled and relaxed on top of his lover, laying his head on the boy's shoulder as thin arms tightened around his neck, not minding the fine blond locks that tickled his nose. After all, he was very tired himself. "God, L. That was...incredible. I can't even /_believe/..._I love you /_so_/ much..." Mello murmured, eyes closed, halfway to dreamland.

L smiled as he pressed his lips against warm, golden skin, nuzzled the spot behind Mello's ear, savoring the moment with all of his five senses. The sweet smell of Mello's hair, the taste of his sweat on his tongue, the way his smooth skin felt under L's fingertips, and the peaceful look that crossed his beautiful, angelic features.

"Mihael, I love you too."

L felt as if he could lie right there forever, and never once regret it. He was reminded of a line from an old movie he'd watched with Watari when he was very young called, 'Gone With The Wind', in which Rhett Butler said to Scarlett O'Hara, "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn." The actor had used the phrase in a slightly different context, signifying that he'd given up on the woman but still, L felt it could be applied to his own situation as well.

He'd just as soon let the world go on without them because, right now, he just didn't give a damn.

* * *

As always, R&R.


	10. I Know

A/N: In this chapter, we have our favorite little albino bunny instigator - Near.

* * *

CHAPTER 10

I KNOW

After the first time, both of them still inexperienced and cautious, it was surprisingly Mello that began to take the upper hand in their relationship. He'd taken to attacking the defenseless detective as soon as he finished his classes. He'd send L text's throughout the day, informing him of his plans. L never replied, and often scolded Mello, warning that someone could easily have peered over his shoulder to read the obscenities. Mello's vocabulary was most certainly very...colorful, especially now since he'd grown more comfortable, and L would sometimes feel himself blushing over the content of the messages. Damn teenage hormones.

One morning during class, the blond felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He flipped it open excitedly, checking the text, thinking L had finally given in and responded.

/_Mello is very brave. Either that, or very foolish._/ it read. Simple. To the point. The number was one he didn't recognize, and had certainly never dialed before.

/_Who the hell?/ _Mello texted back. It couldn't be L, or Matt. L had obviously not given in (not that he'd really expected him to but one could hope, right?), and Matt always wrote in capitals, using abbreviations as opposed to actual words. Fucking dork...

_/N_/

The single letter immediately sent a chill up his spine, his breath caught in his throat. Near. He took a peek over his shoulder to find that the little albino sheep-boy was sitting directly behind him, eyes focused ahead at their instructor.

_/Fuck off/ _

Near had been leaving him alone lately, why would he contact him now? Mello supposed this might be due to some embarassment, if the cold little bastard could actually feel such a thing, hopefully due to his recent defeat. Sure, Mello had stopped worrying so much about becoming L's successor but that didn't mean wasn't absolutely thrilled to put Mr. Perfect in his place once in a while. No matter what, he'd always compete with Near. Nothing could change that.

_/Discretion would be wise/_ Was the other boy's response.

It still drove the blond crazy how unaffected his rival always was by his animosity. He could swear at him, threaten him with violence, call him names. Nothing affected the younger boy. Mello decided to just ignore him, instead sending a message to Matt, asking him if he'd like to meet up later.

_/Mello is very rude/ _Apparently even Near didn't like to be ignored but Mello didn't have the time or the patience for this shit.

_/I'll say it again, Near. FUCK. OFF./_

This would be the last word on the subject, he decided. Whatever was up Near's ass could stay there and rot. He flicked the phone off, cringing at the loud goodbye it sang him.

"Mello, that wouldn't have been a cell phone turning on I just heard, would it?" The instructor, as well as most of the room, turned in his direction.

"No, sir, I was it turning off. Near was trying to text me. He doesn't think he needs to listen to you." Mello grinned in satisfaction, turning his head to watch what he hope would be a shamed reaction, waiting for his tormentor to offer an apology.

"I doubt that. Please pay attention. Unless you _want_ to do poorly on your final exams."

The blonde's jaw dropped. Was the brat sticking out his tongue? How dare he! That little fucker was going to pay.

At five feet even, the white-haired boy had to stand on his tip toes to reach the upper shelves of his locker, setting a heavy text book in and retrieving the action figure that had been awaiting him. This did not bother him much, even when some kids laughed, or 'accidently' fell into him, pushing him into the small space that he easily would fit in. There were more than a handful of times that he'd been shut completely inside. L had once helped him modify the unit, making a latch on the inside to pull for escape. Children could be so cruel.

"Near..." he'd been expecting the blond to catch him sooner or later, and had purposely lingered in the hall a bit longer than usual. Better to be caught here in public than in the boy's bathroom, or upstairs where he could be dragged helplessly into a bedroom for the inevitable fight. He'd rather have witnesses, thank you very much. "We need to talk."

"Of course." He let himself be pulled along by his thin wrist.

"What the fuck was that about?" The blond asked when they'd reached a somewhat deserted area.

"Mello did not need to use so much force, I would have come willingly." Near rubbed at his wrist, noting the marks his rival's fingers made. It would most likely bruise. He'd always been exceptionally fragile, born with more illnesses and allergies than you could shake a stick at. "This is no way to treat someone who you are about to ask a favor of."

"What the hell are you babbling about, you idiot?"

"It seems strange to use such a word, considering Mello's intellectual inferiority to myself. A more effective insult could be directed at our difference in size and strength certainly."

"I currently rank above you, and don't you fucking forget it, you arrogant little prick."

"Even if Mello didn't, I suppose it would not matter. Considering his...advantage."

"What advantage?" He asked, keeping his voice surprisingly steady. On the inside, he was freaking the fuck out. 'Oh. Shit. okay, Mello, stay calm. This is probably just another one of his little mind games. No need to panic. Not until its confirmed.'

"His highly unprofessional relationship with our mentor." Okay, yeah, this was definitely one of those 'Oh shit' moments. Part of him wanted to just burst into tears, the other wanted to wrap his hands around Near's scrawny little neck and strangle the life out of him.

"How dare you, you nosy little bastard!"

"Though, that is true, I do not believe my biological mother and father were married when I was conceived, this is hardly the best way to convince me to assist with Mello's troubles." Mello's heart stopped as he watched Near twirl a lock of his white hair around tiny fingers just a shade darker. With the exception of his coloring, and lack of emotion in his eyes, he was a dead ringer for a twin to the great detective (maybe more like a photo negative). And sometimes that made Mello hate him even more, if it was even possible.

Mello sighed. He knew Near was right, he'd just have to swallow his pride and - shit, this was not going to be easy...

"What do you want?"

"I was aware that Mello is often prone to weakness, though I am somewhat shocked at L's improper behavior." Near saw himself being above petty things like spite, so it was not out of a desire for cold revenge that he taunted the blond.

Mello took in a deep breath, letting the insult roll off his back. Focus. He had to focus. This is one time that he absolutely could not let that little midget get the best of him. "Near, I know you don't understand, but you can't do this to us, OK? You can't say anything. To anybody. Like you said, most people would find our relationship highly improper. L would get in trouble. I'd get sent away. I know you hate me, but please, don't do it."

"I would not wish for Mello to be sent away. Despite our inability to be civil with eachother, I would miss Mello very much. He represents a challenge that none of the other children can offer me."

Huh? Had Near just admitted that he respected Mello? No, of course not. Near didn't respect anything, except whoever had come up with the Transformers and home finger puppet kits. The blond wasn't even sure Near respected L very much.

"So we can agree that it would be very, very bad to tell anybody about this?"

"I am not stupid."

"Only when it comes to emotions." He mumbled, regretting it the instant it left his lips Mello knew he should bite his tongue, he was in no position to be throwing insults around but he couldn't have helped himself if he wanted to. It was the truth. He had never seen the boy show an ounce of empathy for another. It drove him crazy.

"Perhaps it is better to not let emotions rule, as Mello so often does. To me, that is his greatest flaw," Near responded quietly. The blond was always getting into fights, or rushing headlong into the most ridiculous situations without bothering to think through the consequences. He was _ruled _by emotion, _controlled _by it. Near was determined to never let these things get in his way. Love and hate were indulgences he could not afford. They made you weak and irrational. They left you defenseless, susceptible to danger and pain.

Mello took a deep breath. Reminded himself, once again, to focus. He knew that he had to control himself, that he could make a life altering, no, life threatening, mistake if he let himself get carried away this time but it was so hard, knowing what was at stake. That his worst enemy was holding his fate in the palm of his hands. He's never been happy before. Content, yes but never actually _happy. _He thought he might die if he was forced to part with L, from heartbreak or even by his own hand, especially if it was due to his own stupidity and lack of self control. He swallowed pride, anger, and an array of other self destructive emotions and placed his hands on Near's shoulders, forced the younger boy to look him straight in the eye.

"Please. Please, Near just _don't _tell anybody. For once, I'm not miserable, I've got something really good in my life, and I can't let you ruin this for me. Not now. I know can't intimidate you into it, that's never worked for me before, and I can't ask you out of friendship or pity, because none of that matters to either of us. I'm throwing myself at your mercy, here, isn't that what you've always wanted?" Near stared blankly up at him and Mello sighed. "Look, just - _Please_, Near. Don't tell."

"I could not lie if asked."

"No one else suspects anything. And bullshit. You lie more than L. You're probably better at it too."

"Since fabrication can be a very useful tool in detective work, I must thank you for the compliment. Mello thinks better of me than he lets on."

"You are so fucking frustrating!" Mello growled, pulling away from the boy, clenching his hands into fists. He could feel his sharp nails digging into his palms but that was good. It helped distract him from wanting to beat the little freak black and blue.

Near smirked, the corners of his lips curving up just a tiny bit. It wasn't a smile. He never smiled but, he was definitely amused."Mello is too kind. He attempts to compliment me so as to better seal our deal."

"I'm going to attempt to kick your ass if you don't cut the bullshit."

"I imagine L would be very disappointed in you if you did."

How was it that the little rabbit always knew exactly what to say, though he had to give his rival some credit. He'd make one hell of an interrogator someday. Criminals would be giving themselves up left and right, just for the sake of being left alone.

"Near, be serious. Promise me you won't ruin this part of my life for me too." It wouldn't be fair to say that Mello might have grown up less competitive, less insecure, if it wasn't for his enemy. Near had lived there almost as long as he had. Still, Mello wanted to blame it on him. Without that brat, without the constant disappointment of always being just _so close_he might have been a happier person. Oh to hell with being fair, this was all Near's fault.

"I did not realize that I had such a negative impact on Mello's life." Near frowned, not liking the funny feeling tingling in his stomach. Was this...guilt? No, it couldn't be that. Guilt was another one of those dangerous emotions that could not fit into his life. Absolutely not.

"You used to."

Near considered this for a moment, absorbing the new information like he would any lesson. Viewing it from a rational, scientific, unbiased angle. "I don't understand how merely beginning a sexual relationship, even with some whom Mello greatly admires, could change him so much."

Mello could not possibly explain this to him, it was beyond the boy's comprehension. No one would ever understand unless they them self had felt this way, and he didn't think Near would _ever_ be in a relationship, let alone feel something as strong as love for another human being. Still, he had to be sure that Near would not use his knowledge against him. He tried to come up with a list of things he could offer the albino in exchange for his silence, only to come up short. What could he offer, short of stepping out of the running for successor? (He could say he didn't care as many times as he liked but, giving up to _Near_...no way. Just no.)Even having grown up with this child, he had no idea what gave him pleasure, other than toys and he had more than enough of them already to satisfy his needs.

"What do you want? Just name it, and its yours."

Near blinked. "Mello believes I am blackmailing him?"

"No shit. Why else would you be confronting me?"

There was no easy answer to that question. It seemed to boil down to him just wanting his rival to know that he knew. There was an odd tingling sensation he felt when he watched someone squirm under mental pressure. He thought back to times when L had shown them video surveillance of interrogations, where he'd had a similar reaction. Everyone had secrets, and everyone liked to keep them, even when the consequences seemed so insignificant. If it shamed a person enough to hide their actions, if it consumed every waking thought until it threatened to destroy them, why did they do it?

Mello watched the sick little freak's eyes widen, the corner of his lip twitch. 'Pervert,' Mello thought, not really wanting to know what the boy was dreaming up.

"I give my word that I want nothing in return. I will not reveal Mello's secret to anyone. I simply thought it was fair that Mello know that I know." And that was as good as it would get. But it was a promise, and if Near had one virtue, it was that he knew the meaning of keeping one's word. Justice and honor went hand in hand. L himself had taught them that it was what kept you above the men and women he captured.

"Thank you. Honestly, Near. Thank you." God, was that ever hard to say...Mello hated being dependant on somebody. Especially _this_ somebody.

Near once again gave his creepy little smirk. "Mello is always welcome."

As always, please tell me what you think!


	11. Tease

A/N: Ok, so some of you may not agree but, I've always thought that L might be kid of a romantic because he always speaks his mind about the observations he makes and being socially inept, he probably wouldn't even realize that what he was saying could be considered as romantic. That's why I decided to make the first scene sickeningly sappy. The second scene? Well, uh...it gets kinda dirty.

* * *

CHAPTER 11

TEASE

L could not believe his luck as he lay atop his lover, trying to support most of his weight on his elbows as he trembled and gasped for breath, still inside while he rode out his orgasm. He lifted his head from where it rested on Mello's shoulder to watch the blond come down from his high, eyes shut tight, the corners of his slightly parted lips curved up in a stunning smile. "Mello, love. Do you want me to move?" The boy tightened his legs around L's hips, and shook his head.

"Don't you fucking dare." He mumbled, eyes still closed. The detective smiled and leaned down to steal a kiss. He just thought he'd ask. He always did, and the blonde's answer was always the same but L figured it was the polite thing to do.

As one of Mello's hands slid from the back of his neck to tangle itself in his unruly hair, he noticed that the fingers of the other were still laced with his own. They'd stayed that way the entire time. Again. L had decided it was only natural, to want to be connected with his lover in as many ways as possible. And he'd found that it kept him grounded when it felt like the pleasure was so intense, that he'd lose himself if he didn't have something to hold onto. Mello often told him he was a romantic, a word he never thought he'd use to describe himself. Maybe he was, but those were his observations, and like always, he voiced them without shame and with complete disregard for what others might think. Besides, he loved the way Mello would smile when he said what was on his mind. He could tell that it made the blond feel special. He /loved/ being the one to make his lover feel special.

He leaned down once more to kiss Mello's lips, the tip of his nose, both eyelids, then pressed their foreheads together and closed his eyes, allowing himself to take it all in for a moment. "Do you have any idea how absolutely incredible you are?" he asked.

"Mmm, no. Why don't you tell me again?"

L laughed. He tilted his head so he could kiss the blond again, "You...Are the most incredible...Absolutely stunning being...That I have ever had the pleasure...To lay my eyes on," he told him, punctuating each pause with another kiss.

"Well you can lay your eyes, your body, anything you want on me, anytime you like."

L leaned back, and Mello's blue eyes finally opened. "It is a very good thing that you don't mind because I doubt I could stop if you asked."

"What if I asked very, very nicely?"

"Even then."

"How do you do it?"

"Do what?" L murmured, far to distracted with running his fingertips over Mello's soft, full lips. The blond smiled. L did the most random things, fixating himself on one part of his body at a time. Studying his mouth, his hands, his toes, the small of his back. The detective had spent three hours once counting the freckles on his shoulders.

"How do you always know exactly what to say to make me feel like a lovesick school girl?" L frowned, dipped his head to kiss his bottom lip. He nipped at the tender flesh, then used the tip of his tongue to soothe it.

"I do not mean to. I thought Mello enjoyed the things I say to him."

"I know you don't, that's the best part...and I love the things you say to me."

"Hmm. That is also a very good thing, my dear, because I don't think I could stop doing that either...we should probably shower soon. I, myself would be content to lay here all afternoon but I know how uncomfortable our combined bodily fluids make you after we make love."

Mello made a face as if suddenly realizing how sticky he was. "You're right. Now get off." L smiled, kissed his lover's forehead, then carefully pulled out of him and rolled over onto his back. The blond stood up, then groaned and made another face as something warm and sticky slid down his thigh. "That's so fucking gross..." L laughed.

"I'm sorry, love."

When Mello made it to the bathroom, he stopped in the doorway, and turned his head to look over his shoulder, that cat-like grin spreading slowly across his lips. "Well, are you coming, or not? I might even let you have your way with me again..."

L let his eyes shamelessly roam over every inch of the boy's tanned skin. Mello never had to ask him twice.

* * *

Mello stood under the spray of hot water, letting L shampoo his blond locks. Mello had showered alone that morning, using his own unscented shampoo. L had complained that the golden strands didn't taste right, to which Mello had responded that there were better uses for his tongue than sampling the taste of his hair. The detective had been more than happy to turn his attention to those very things, yet now he insisted on using the raspberries 'n' creme soap that Watari had bought this week.

Mello turned his head to see that his lover's nose was covered in suds, having just been buried in the nape of the boy's neck. He licked the soap off, agreeing that it wasn't all that bad tasting. As far as shampoo went it could be worse.

"Your oral fixations just get stranger and stranger." The blond turned back, eyes closed, face tilted up towards the warm spray.

"You just get tastier and tastier." To prove this point, the raven haired man bent, licking a long line up the small of the boy's back. Mello had to place his palms against the shower wall to steady himself, his knees quaked, threatening to give out on him. "Of the numerous times that we have made love, only nine percent has been in the shower. I would like to raise the percentage by at least six points."

"Of the numerous times we have made love in the shower, you have nearly dropped me at least twice."

"I believe that both times you were to blame." They had argued the point many times, Mello insisting that if L had just let him face the wall, with the older man behind, they would have both been able to better brace themselves. The detective had insisted that never would he engage in that position. He liked to see Mello's eyes darken with lust, eyelids fluttering shut towards the end when the sensations grew and overflowed until he nearly lost consciousness. "If you had kept one foot on the floor, like I suggested, we would not have lost balance."

"The angle was all wrong. You know it, I know it. Admit defeat." The discussion was over now, and the blond knew he had won, until the detective got to his knees, kissing the spot that made him arch his back, pushing his hips back into the sensation. It was the only time that L would let the boy face away from him, but only because it brought Mello immense pleasure, and was quite difficult to do in any other position.

L kissed back up the boy's spine, teasing, waiting to see just how long it would be before impatience got the better of him. L had noticed that with each consecutive orgasm, Mello grew less and less concerned with romance and just wanted 'get the fuck on with it'. The detective's tongue had only made it halfway up the blond's back before this very thing happened.

"Fucking quit teasing." L was already back on his knees, though not touching with his hands or tongue.

"You like to be teased." He held one slim, sharp hip lightly pressing into the hollow between. The pressure was just enough to tickle the boy, who laughed despite himself, wiggling away from the touch.

"Not fucking right now I don't. Finish what you started." Both hands gripped his hips now, careful not to apply too much pressure to the very ticklish spot nearby. Mello's palms lay flat against the shower wall, waist slightly bent. Without further hesitation, L slipped his tongue inside him, already eliciting little moans of encouragement. This in itself was a tease, the muscle not being able to put pressure on the prostate, though the very idea of having anything of the detective's inside him could make him come. One of L's hands reached to stroke his dick anyway, the teen's body alternating trying to impale itself on the muscle inside him, and slowly thrusting into the man's hand. The hand that still rested on one hip gripped tighter, telling him to relax. He didn't need to do any of the work.

A few moments more of L's skillful attentions, and Mello was panting heavily, nails dragging down the shower wall. He knees threatened to give out on him, and he willed himself to remain steady. If he were to fall, the detective would not engage in this activity again, for weeks at least. He wanted to hold out, so he could once again finish with L, but it was too late, his whole body shaking with the after effects of a /really/ good orgasm.

Mello turned, when at last he could open his eyes again and trusted his balance, carefully dropping to his knees in front of the man. They kissed, letting the water that had now turned luke warm wash over them. When they broke apart, the boy noticed that he had gotten his wish after all.

"You got off. L you're so fucking perfect."

"I like to give pleasure as well as receive." Mello straddled the mans lap, laying his head on his shoulder. He could hear the heartbeat slowing to it's normal pace. He felt himself drifting in and out of consciousness, not from the energy they'd exerted, from the sound of that heart that beat steadily against his own chest. "Though, I suppose, I managed to do both simultaneously."

"L, something bad happened today." The blond cursed his brain for refusing to shut off. It was the curse of a genius mind, he never stopped thinking. It was probably the reason that L, most likely being even more brilliant, had had so much trouble sleeping for most of his twenty three years.

"You are still tense. After this many orgasms in a single evening, one ought to be quite relaxed."

"Don't worry, you were absolutely amazing. It's just that..." Mello shivered. The water had become quite cold as they sat there. "Let's get out of here and I'll tell you."

The detective insisted on towel drying his lover, wrapping one towel around each of their waists, and the third around the boy's blond hair. He waited quietly, not pushing. When Mello was ready to explain what was troubling him he would listen, offer solutions. They could handle anything together. It could never be that bad. Though the teen did seem very troubled, anxiously pacing across the bedroom floor.

"Near knows about us." L couldn't help himself, he laughed, though was cut off short with an icy glare. How pretty those blue eyes could be when they showed anger. "It's true! He told me this afternoon. I think he just wants to distract me from my studies so he can come out ahead again. I made him promise not to tell, but he could! He's harder to read than you."

"Near is merely curious about our relationship."

"You didn't talk to him did you?" The blond let himself feel slightly betrayed. If L had spoken to Near himself, Mello was going to punish him for it. This was their secret.

"Of course not. I only know this because I understand the way that his mind works. If Near is curious about something, he heads straight to the source. He does not waste time pondering when he can have a straight answer. If he has found us out, he merely wants to know /why/ we are engaging in a relationship. That subject is especially confusing for him. He has great difficulty with emotions. If you had offered to share you insight with him, he would have spent the entire afternoon absorbing every detail."

"Yeah, great way to spend an afternoon. And, ewww. Details? I think not."

"I did not say that you ought to mention anything specific about our sexual behaviors. I meant the feelings we share. And Mello, perhaps you ought to spend a little more time being kind to the boy. He really can be a pleasure to converse with. Anyway, someday you might have to work alongside him."

"L! That's...disturbed." To Mello, the detective might as well have suggested he go on a rampage killing babies. Working alongside Near was a sick, perverted, criminal activity. Certainly punishable by death.


	12. Show Me Just How Vicious You Can Be

A/N: Its Mello's Birthday! Yay! Kinda...

WARNING: Angst ahoy! This chapter contains some touchy subject matter that you may or may not find disturbing but is very important to the plot and therefore a necessary evil. Everything in this story has been cutesy/funny/tame but its about to get a whole lot more dramatic so hold onto your hats, kids.

By the by: The chapter title is a lyric from the song 'Follow The Format' by Taking Back Sunday. Favorite band. Favorite song. Check 'em out if you haven't already.

Thank you Darkness-Bride for your review. And I hope I cleared up the confusion with the message I sent.

CHAPTER 12

SHOW ME JUST HOW VICIOUS YOU CAN BE

Mello had already exhausted every trick in the book in regards to getting out of classes on his thirteenth birthday.

This was unfair! It was cruelty! Not that the other kids received special treatment, but _they _didn't have a gorgeous boyfriend that they'd rather be spending the afternoon with. At least, not as far as he knew. Sure, they had lives outside of school, but he liked to think that the things they enjoyed did not have nearly as much meaning as what he was longing for. They weren't counting the seconds until they could kiss lips that were sweet and always tasted like chocolate. They didn't have a lover to hold, and be held by, while breathing in the scent of strawberry shampoo and post-sex sweat.

He'd been to the nurse that morning, complaining of stomach pains, a headache, a list of other maladies that couldn't easily be explained away. The excuse ought to have been enough to prescribe a day of bed rest, especially when he blinked crocodile tears, held his hand to his head and whined. It hurt, he couldn't possibly concentrate in his lessons. To be forced to do so would only cause further pain. If he could just be sent back to bed, he could sleep this sudden illness away, possibly even fully recovering in a day or two. The young lady, who'd only just recently moved in, had already seen a number of boys his age with similar undiagnosable problems. Some of them came with the intent to scam an unplanned vacation day, but the majority because she was young and pretty and gentle. Unfortunately, though, not the least bit stupid. Figures.

So there Mello sat, pouting, picking at his black nail polish and listening to the lecture despite himself. He thought to recommend that L teach at least one of these classes, like he did sometimes for the smaller children. He was a much more entertaining speaker, especially when he chewed his thumb, considering what to say next. The detective was always had _something _in his mouth. His very lovely, very _skilled _mouth. The blond, now thirteen years old (he assumed, not actually knowing his time of birth offhand), tried to push these thoughts away, noting that all they did was make his current situation all the more unbearable. He also knew that these thoughts could very well lead to some very embarrassing problems that he did not want to have to worry about in this very crowded room.

He wanted to punish L, who he'd asked just last night to come up with a plan for him to stay in bed. The detective had first pointed out that that would seem very much like favoritism, and also that Mello should not let his education fall behind for any reason, even him (what a time he picks to be selfless. Fucker). L went on to remind him that he had already finished schooling, and was vastly wealthy and successful. If _he _felt like taking a day off, it was much more acceptable. Mello, partially out of frustration, and partially feeling rather annoyed that he'd lost the argument, ceased his whining to kiss his lover, only to bite the older man's lip a little more roughly than usual.

Mello hurried to L's room when the painful ordeal was finally finished, ready to let L make the day melt away, maybe gain at least a shred of sympathy despite the previous evening's discussion. His lover did him one better. He was greeted at the door by the gorgeous detective, a bowl of chocolate ice cream held out in front of him. The dish was monstrous, overflowing. There were bits of brownie, chocolate sprinkles, and hot fudge. There was even a chocolate flavored cone! Mello scooped up some of the treat with the spoon stuck deep into the bowl, filling the cone and handing it to his lover. L looked absolutely delighted at the gift, licking up some of the fudge that had dribbled onto his hand.

"Happy birthday."

"Yes, very happy birthday." Mello replied, chewing on a piece of brownie, then dipping the spoon back in for another mouthful. L watched the blond lick the spoon clean after each bite, eyes closed, savoring it. Mello had made this same exact face every time they'd made love and L had to remind himself that it was _Mello's _birthday. Not his own.

"I would have prepared a cake, but there wasn't enough time, and-"

"You're not allowed to play in the kitchen by yourself." It was becoming a common occurrence for the two to finish each other's sentences now. L had asked Mello once why partners were called a 'couple', when it felt to him like they were two halves of a single person. Mello knew that this was the way L really felt. He wasn't trying to sound more romantic in order to please him, though his thoughts on love seemed to be stolen right from the mouths of prince charming and other famous lovers. It made him feel like a lovesick school girl...And sometimes very...undeserving of L's attention.

"So, it's your birthday. What would you like to do?" L asked when they'd finished his chocolaty treat. Mello smiled and took the bowl from the older man, setting it aside before pulling him out of his chair and over to the bed.

Mello pushed L down to sit on the edge of the mattress, giving his lover his trademark Cheshire cat grin. "Sit. Watch," he said.

"But, its your - "

"My birthday, yes. I know L, I was there." L gave him a blank look as if to say, 'smart ass' but Mello ignored it. "And that's why you're going to shut your mouth like good boy and do as I say." L had always known that deep down, under his sometimes shy exterior, Mello was rather dominant but to say he wasn't slightly taken aback by the boys words would be a lie. This was different. Something seemed off, wrong in some way but he had no time to ponder it as Mello had begun sliding his shirt slowly up his chest, hand deliberately running over his smooth skin like he knew L loved to do. L was only a man. A brilliant man, but still a man with needs just like any other so when his lover pulled the garment off over his head and tossed it into the corner, he was suddenly drawing a blank, unable to think of what had been worrying him in the first place. L licked his lips, unable to help himself as his eyes roamed Mello's body. He knew he probably looked like a pervert, like a starving man eyeing a particularly appetizing piece of meat but Mello was smiling smugly. He loved the attention, knowing that he was wanted, desired. "Like what you see?" he asked. L could only nod, not trusting himself to speak without sounding like a complete moron. Mello's smile grew. "Well, then you're going to love this..."

He occupied the fingers of his left hand by running them lightly over his lips, slowly sliding them into his mouth in a rather suggestive manner. His right traveled down his neck, his chest, his stomach, to the front of his jeans where he unbuttoned them effortlessly (tricky), pulled the zipper down, watching L intently for his every reaction. When he thought he'd tortured him enough, he brought his left hand down to join the right, wet fingers following the same path, leaving a glistening trail of saliva in their wake. He slid his jeans down slowly off his hips, over his thighs, kicking them to the side when they'd reached the floor.

Mello crawled up onto the bed, straddling L's hips, and pushed the older man back until he was resting on his elbows, still staring at him in awe. L couldn't believe how..._sexy _he looked right then, and what an incredibly lucky he was. He never thought he'd be effected by someone like this but, here he was, so hard it was painful and he hadn't even been touched yet. And it only got better from there. Mello kissed him, holding nothing back, tongue forcing L's own to submit as it explored every bit of his mouth. L reached up to rest his hand on his lover's hip, something he'd learned the other boy liked, but Mello slapped it away, biting down hard on the older man's lip.

"No!" he said. "Don't touch me unless I tell you to!" L blinked up at him in surprise but did as he was told. Seemingly realizing how harsh his tone was, Mello smiled sweetly. "I'm sorry. Just go along with this. You'll like it, I promise."

Somehow, L doubted he would. Mello was actually beginning to...scare him, as strange as it sounded. He'd dealt with some of the most dangerous criminals in the world, murders, rapists, you name it, he's seen it. He shouldn't be frightened by a thirteen-year-old boy but this was a side of his lover he'd never seen before and it was surprising to say the least. Mello slid down his body, off the bed until he was kneeling on the floor between L's legs. He looked up at the older man as he began to undo his jeans. "Take your shirt off...please." L sat up and obeyd, then lifted his hips so Mello could pull off his jeans and boxers. He wasted no time taking as much of L into his mouth and halfway down his throat, wrapping his hand around what wouldn't fit. If L still had his wits about him, he would have marveled at his lover's ability to do so (though he was also a bit annoyed - he had yet to master the technique himself). Instead the older man moaned loudly, dropping back onto the bed as he instinctively reached down to run his fingers through Mello's hair. He was careful not to pull the soft blond locks because the one time he did, Mello became very angry and he spent the rest of the night apologizing and very unsatisfied.

If Mello could have smiled, he would have. He loved pleasing L, even more than he liked receiving pleasure himself. It made him feel important. Like he was actually worth something for once.

"If Mello does not stop, I believe this will be over before it begins, unless that is his intention..."

Mello pulled away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Hell no," he said, stripping off his boxers and climbing into L's lap. L moaned, eyes shut tight just the friction almost doing him in. Again, he reached for Mello only to have his hands slapped away once more. Mello grabbed a handful of his dark hair, jerking his head up. L opened his eyes in surprise, his gaze meeting Mello's icy blues. "What did I tell you? _Don't _touch me."

"Mello, I don't understand..." L tried, suddenly very confused. But the younger boy only narrowed his eyes. He shut his mouth and his eyes followed suit as Mello released his hair, grinding his hips into his own. He was only distracted for a second but it was a second too long, and he didn't realize what the hell was going on until Mello had already impaled himself on his dick in one quick movement. The boy let out a hiss of pain and L's eyes shot open. There was Mello, his beautiful Mello, head bowed, hair hanging over his face, palms pressed down on L's chest as his shaking arms struggled to hold him up.

After the shock had subsided, L grabbed Mello's shoulders, his first instinct to remove the boy as quickly as possible but stopped himself before he could carry out the action. It occurred to him that Mello had neglected to prepare himself for the intrusion and saliva certainly didn't make a good substitute for proper lubricant. Any false move could very likely do him more harm than good as the possibility of internal injury was at least sixty-two percent, at best. The odds we're not in his favor and L was never much of a gambler unless there was at least a ninety-seven percent chance that he would be the victor. Thirty-eight would not suffice, especially when his love was in danger.

"Mello, please - " L tried to protest but as soon as the words left his mouth, the blond began to move against him, pushing himself up, then sliding back down none too gently. L moaned despite himself and instantly felt the urge to vomit. How could he possibly be getting pleasure from this when Mello was so clearly in pain? But really, it was just his body's natural reaction. There was just enough lubrication to make him feel amazing, (especially because this position allowed him to get much deeper than usual) but too little to make Mello anything but miserable. While he was barely turned on, L's body was on fire, the blonde's every shaky movement bringing him closer and closer to orgasm, but inside, every little pained whimper that passed through Mello's lips broke his heart.

Feeling that he should at least do something, he tried to give Mello pleasure as well, attempt to salvage what should have been a beautiful, intimate moment by wrapping his hand around the boy's erection but the blonde gave him a dark look, L could clearly see the tears in his bloodshot eyes, and slapped him away. "_Don't_," he growled, and L finally gave up, opting to cover his face with his hands and wait for it to be over. He actually hoped to reach climax soon just so his lover would stop torturing himself. But when he came, and Mello collapsed against his chest with a sob as L's semen stung his battered insides, he felt disgusting. Like the scum of the Earth. He felt like one of the many rapists he'd put behind bars in his career as a detective.

He felt Mello's thin body trembling against him, making him seem even more fragile than usual, and tried to wrap his arms around the boy, offer some sort of comfort, not knowing what else to do, but the blonde refused, instead pulling himself off of L's lap to lay beside him. He took deep, shaky breaths, eyes shut tight as he tried to calm himself. L didn't know what to do. He couldn't _believe _that had just happened. He turned to face his lover. Noticing he was still hard (how, he didn't know), he once again tried to help. And just like before, he was rejected. "Mello, please let me - "

Mello got to his feet without a word of explanation and went into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. The older man got up to follow, but then, there was a click signifying that the door had been locked, and no, L was not welcome. A moment later, the shower was turned on and L pulled on his boxers, sat beside the door to wait. He heard sobs mixed in with moans, muffled by the sound of running water but that didn't take the edge off. He knew exactly what Mello was doing. He was masturbating. And he was crying while he did it.

Now, the older man didn't usually use profanity but the only thought that came to mind was, 'What the fuck?'.

L rubbed at his temples, trying to ward off the migraine he felt trying to sneak up on him. Yes, even the great L gets stressed out sometimes, and really, who wouldn't in his line of work? He'd seen more disturbing things before he was 12 than most adults had seen in their entire lives. Sometimes he wondered why the hell he did it but, he is justice. _L _is justice and if he doesn't do it, who will?

When he thinks about his successors - Mello, Near, Matt - he hopes to he'll live long enough for them to at least reach adulthood because no child should have to bear witness to some of the things being 'L' entitles. He'd like them to keep their innocence as long as they possibly can...Ha. Innocence. He'd taken Mello's innocence several times over, hadn't he? Though he knew he loved the boy, more than anything - there could be no other word to decribe how he felt (and he'd checked) - for the first time, he felt guilty about the relationship he'd initiated. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Mello really _wasn't _ready to handle this, if this new development said anything.

L sighed, he was so confused. What was he doing? Was he actually questioning a decision he'd made? That was impossible. He was L. L was never wrong. This wasn't the time to start getting cold feet, he'd finish what he started but, he _had _to get to the bottom of this. He needed to be the adult for once. For the sake of Mello's sanity, as well as his own.

It was over an hour before Mello emerged from the bathroom followed by a cloud of steam with a towel wrapped loosely around his hips, his skin flushed pink from the temperature of the water. His eyes were still terribly bloodshot when he met L's gaze but he still managed to force a tiny smile. "Hey," he whispered.

"Mello, we need to - " L didn't even get the chance to finish his sentence.

"I'm really tired, can we just go to sleep?" he asked but he was already across the room, digging through the dresser drawer he'd claimed as his own. It took only a moment for the blond to find his night clothes and he dropped his towel, dressing quickly. Before he could turn around, L was there, wrapping his arms around Mello's shoulders, kissing the top of his head, then pressing his nose into the crook of his neck. Mello actually smiled, turning his face to kiss the detective's cheek but instead, L caught his lips with his own. Just a quick little peck then he pulled back, staring into the blonde's bright blue eyes.

"Mello knows I love him very much?" Mello nodded, pressing his lips to L's forearm, the closest skin to his mouth. "Then surely Mello knows that I do not enjoy seeing him in pain." The blonde sighed, tried to pull away but the detective refused to let him.

"L..."

"Mello said I would enjoy that but then he intentionally caused himself harm. For future reference, I did not like it."

"I didn't mean to," Mello said quietly, looking away.

"You're lying. I don't particularly like that either."

Mello growled and shoved the older man away, turning to face him. His hands were clenched into fists, eyes full of rage. L was fascinated by how quickly the boy's mood could change - happy to sad to absolutely furious at the drop of a hat. Like he'd first thought, Mello was indeed a very complex puzzle. And he still hadn't even come close to solving it. Part of him hoped he never would.

"Fuck you, you didn't enjoy it. Your come in my ass says you liked it just fine!" he yelled.

"Please don't be so crude," L said, wincing internally when reminded of what he'd done. Guilt was such a strange emotion...

"Fuck you, L! I'll be as crude as I want to!"

"You are smart enough to know that physical pleasure is a body's natural reaction to stimulation and has absolutely nothing to do with what a person thinks or feels about the current situation. Mello is being very childish right now."

"_Mello _doesn't give a fuck! Now leave him the hell alone, he's fucking tired and he wants to go to sleep. Is that too much to ask?"

"I think we should talk about this."

"Talk about _what_?"

"Do not play dumb with me. You know very well that I am referring to your highly self-destructive tendencies."

"Quit fucking analyzing me! You're my fucking boyfriend, not my shrink!" Mello was positively screaming now as tears welled in his eyes. When the first few began to fall, he wiped them away angrily with his sleeve, furious with himself for allowing someone - even L - to see him cry. _Mihael Keehl did not fucking cry._ Not anymore.

L just wanted to hold him but knew that trying to initiate physical contact with his lover at the moment was perhaps not the best idea. Instead, he tried reasoning with the boy, momentarily forgetting that Mello was definitely not a reasonable person and therefore such tactics were eighty-seven percent unlikely to work on him.

"That may be true but, I am very concerned by your behvior tonight. It is not healthy. I only want to help but I can not if you refuse to tell me what is troubling you. Please, Mello." L was begging. Actually _begging_. He never begged anybody for anything, he just told them what he wanted, when he wanted it, and where to put it when it got there. And that was that. Done. But this relationship was beginning to make him realize that he wasn't always going to get his way anymore. He'd have to give as much as he took. Usually, anything that took him this far out of his comfort zone was immediately disposed of but, Mello...For Mello, he was willing to try. No, not _try _- he was willing to _do_. "Please, Mello, just tell me what's wrong. I love - "

"There's nothing wrong!" Mello screamed.

"That is highly unlikely!" he shouted back, surprising the both of them. He never raised his voice. It didn't seem worth the effort when whatever was annoying him could simply be ignored. But Mello was not just another annoyance. He was a person he loved and respected, and was never to be ignored. Especially when he was in pain. "Mihael, I do not like seeing you like this. Please tell me, we're both highly intelligent human beings. We will find a solution."

Mello didn't answer this time, but dropped to his knees, hand going instinctively for his rosary. He began to mumble words in a language that L recognized as Latin, head bowed as he rocked back and forth, allowing his tears to fall freely now. Every time he paused, his fingers would move onto the next bead. The detective sighed and kneeled down beside the blond, reaching out to tuck some hair behind his ear so he could see his face a little better. He knew better than to disrupt him in the middle of his prayers so he waited until he heard 'Amen' before he spoke.

"Mello, let's go to sleep now, okay?" The boy looked up, an expression of sheer relief across his pretty features. He smiled. God, Mello was beautiful. Even with tear tracks and bloodshot eyes, when the boy smiled, L thought he was the most magnificent thing he'd ever seen.

"Thank you."

L attempted to smile as he wiped the remaining tears from Mello's face. "Never mind that. You need your rest," He said. and took Mello's hand, helping him up. He led him over to the bed, watched him curl up on his side before he turned off the light and climbed in behind him. L wrapped his arms around the blonde's thin waist and kissed his hair, pulling the other warm body back as close as he could get. "At least tell me if you are injured." he murmured into the younger boy's hair. Mello shook his head and L decided to leave it at that. He didn't want to. He wanted to say _something_. He wanted to demand that Mello explain his actions but, it was no use to argue, Mello had a stubborn streak to rival his own and L feared that further discussion on the matter would only make the blonde angrier, less willing to talk. So instead he whispered, "I love you."

No answer.

L was frustrated, he wanted to scream. Dealing with the emotions he never thought he had was taxing enough. Trying to deal with someone else's, especially those of a hormonal teen, was damn-near agonizing.

Mello stared at the wall. He could feel his lover's warm breath on the back of his neck, strong arms holding him tight against his chest. He normally loved this kind of thing. He loved being held, being fawned over, listening to L tell him how beautiful he was, how special he was, but right now, all he wanted was for L to get the fuck away from him.

What the hell was wrong with him?

And what had he just done? He certainly hadn't been himself. When it was happening, he felt like he was watching it from a spectator's point of view. Like it had been someone else in his body, making him do all of those terrible things, disappearing once again when it was through, and leaving him with the aftermath. In pain. And very, very confused. To deal with L and all of those questions that he just didn't have the answers to. He knew L wanted an explanation, and Mello knew he deserved one after his behavior but how could he when he didn't even know himself?

Neither slept, and they both knew that it would be a very long time before they spoke of it again.


	13. U ME QLTY TIME

A/N: Its Matty's Birthday! What's Mello gonna get him?

Everyone always says that Mello is the instigator of all of their delinquent activities but I figure that Matt was a little boy too. I'm sure he had quite the imagination.

Angsty-ness - alcohol tends to bring out the worst in people.

I promise that Mello's increasingly strange behavior will be explained in due time.

* * *

CHAPTER 13

'U. ME. QLTY TIME.'

It must have been out of sheer negligence, or stupidity, that Matt and Mello still shared a few classes together. Over the years, they'd more than their fare share of hell. It started when they were very young, Matt having a great fondness of small creatures rather than humans even then, had taken to memorizing every female teacher's worst nightmare in the 'creepy crawley' department. One such poor soul had taken to enlisting her students to dig for writing instruments and rulers in her desk door, having spent every day of the previous week coming up with a toad (who on earth could be afraid of such a thing?) instead of what she had been searching for. Another woman had spent the remainder of her day locked in the women's bathroom, having hysterics after the snake that had been placed in her chair slithered it's way up under her shirt. Some of the braver girls moved to help her, as the boys stared on in a mix of delighted surprise and curiosity when she'd thrown the garment to the floor, standing there in her bra, still furiously batting at her skin as if the creature were still there.

Mello was somewhat crueler, taking to spreading super glue on chairs, or breaking in the previous night to stack every desk into a teetering pyramid. Both of the boys had done their fair share of ringing fire alarms, flooding the bathrooms, and other such childish antics. As they aged, the pranks grew more sophisticated. They'd spend an entire day speaking in a foreign language, or responding to questions by Morse code, accomplished by rapping their desks with their knuckles or tapping a foot on the floor. These, among other devilish activities, were legendary. Most of the students either feared or respected them, and undoubtedly the majority of the teachers hated them.

So, it must have been out of ignorance that today, Mello at the age of thirteen, Matt nearing his own thirteenth birthday, were sitting in classroom together. This teacher, having spent many years desperately trying to stay out of the boys' way, turned a blind eye to their current activity of text messaging one another. Out of respect, the two had switched the phones to vibrate mode. Usually they would not offer such a courtesy, Mello's phone playing an obnoxious mechanical version of a classical tune each time he received a response, Matt's playing an equally obnoxious version of whatever techno song was his current favorite. It was amazing how they managed to be the third and second (first now, since November) ranking children managed to keep up with their studies. Then again, a preteen who knew at least five languages, not including their native tongue, then he sure as hell could give his attention to a lecture and text message simultaneously.

/Bday soon/

/SO?/

/ne thing u want/

Mello expected him to list some new games, a music cd of some kind. The response he got made him feel even more guilty than he had about ignoring his best friend. He'd tried to spend some quality time with him lately, but the redhead was always so distant, so quiet. They'd sit in silence, Matt playing one of his games, Mello lounging on the bed, not quite sure what was the point and why his friend seemed so interested in it. Once in a while, Matt would tear his eyes from the screen, long enough to stare into the blonde's eyes, open his mouth to say something, then seem to reconsider and return his attention to the mission at hand. When Mello was tired of doing nothing, he'd ramble on about whatever L's latest case might be, and how the brilliant man was /this close/ to cracking it, how he was doing his part with research and filing. It wouldn't be long before L made him his official partner, finally achieving his ultimate goal and beating Near. Two birds, one stone.

/U. ME. QLTY TIME/

This response was equally more heartfelt than usual, most often being some form of 'let's hang out and get into trouble' or 'check out what I hacked into last night'. His friend was busy ripping open three pixie sticks at once, all different colors, tipping the sugar onto his tongue and chasing it with the remainder of his energy drink. Mello had tried to make a case against such activities, and how the mass amounts of caffeine was probably the reason why his hacker friend never slept properly. The younger boy had replied that, first of all, he had to consume these things during the day /because/ of his insomnia, and anyway, chocolate had loads of caffeine in it so Mello was a hypocrite. The blond had bought his friend a coffee pot for his last birthday. This was not his way of conceding that he'd lost the argument, he merely felt that the boy would enjoy it. And wasn't a warm drink much more pleasant on cold winter mornings than red bull and flavored sugar packets?

/duh. study 2nite. see u 2morrow. luv m./ He did truly love Matt. Not in the way he loved L, of course, but there had always been a deep connection between the two. They could have been brothers, though Jeevas and Keehl obviously came from two different backgrounds. The blond had been the first to admit how much he cared for his friend, one day when they sat on a tree branch, hiding from Roger and Watari. They had been giggling hysterically, when Matt's face suddenly took on a serious expression. After some pushing, Matt had shared that he was thinking that someday all the fun and games would be over. Mello was going to leave, go off to be a famous detective. The redhead admitted that he knew he'd never amount to anything half as great, and he'd be forgtten and alone. 'Next in line' didn't mean shit, not that he ever wanted to be first anyway.

"You'll always be with me, Mail. You're my best friend. I love you. Even if you wanted to get away from me you couldn't. Now tell me you love me back and quit being a whiny little girl." The blond's method of comforting almost always included various insults. That was just how he showed affection. This was something you had to come to terms with, because if he decided that you belonged to him you were indeed stuck, and just had to deal with it.

"I love you back." He couldn't look his older friend in the eyes when he said it the first time, he was already showing more emotion than he was comfortable with. People didn't tell him they loved him. They said they were proud, they complimented him on his achievements. They showed concern when he was ill. But no one /loved/ him. So a little discomfort was expected, but he meant what he said. After that first time, they said it every day, and it became easier and easier. Now, years later, to not say it made the boy uncomfortable.

* * *

Mello had spent a good part of the day before Matt's birthday worrying about what he could possibly do to make the occasion as fun and exciting as he knew he'd made all the rest. He found himself taking pride in the fact that it was difficult to top the previous birthday experiences, but of course that made sense. He was Mello after all, and who how could you possibly have any more fun than when you spent time with him. He was brilliant, creative, funny, and sexy as hell. The last L had recently added to the list of things that made the blond the total package. Not that it mattered to his redheaded friend, but such a thing was always good to know about oneself.

It wasn't until the early morning, while he dressed in some more casual clothing than usual (who knew what messes the boys might get into), that he came up with his most brillaint idea yet. As far as he knew, Matt had never been intoxicated before. He himself had only sampled alcohol once or twice in his lifetime, and found the sensation of being completely calm and relaxed more than intriguing. Of course he would not let himself make a regular habit of such a thing, like Roger did. Alcohol did terrible things to the body when used in excess, but if used in moderation, especially in the company of a close friend, was perfectly acceptable. Never mind that either teen was five years away from being able to legally consume it in England, as well as another three across the pond. Both had indulged in many things that were most certainly not age appropriate.

Sneaking into Roger's office had been so simple it was almost disappointing. When Mello had stolen the old man's keys last, he'd had the foresight to make copies of most before he returned them. The item itself wasn't even locked in the bottom desk drawer (sheer negligence). He stowed the bottle in his backpack, along with the two cans of soda he'd taken from L's miniature fridge, and two paper cups. He'd done some research on the subject, discovering that cola was supposed to mask the taste of the brownish liquor. He remembered the last time he'd sampled it, straight, surprised at how it burned all the way down his throat.

The blond burst into his best friend's bedroom, singing the traditional tune at top volume. His friend stood to greet him, blushing slightly. No matter how often the older boy had tried to break him of it, Matt hated any kind of excess attention directed at himself, even if it was just the two of them.

"How's your very lucky thirteenth birthday thus far, oh best friend of mine?" The blond threw his bag of tricks onto Matt's bed, amongst the clutter. He practically skipped his way towards the other, hugging him and talking excitedly. "However it may been been, it's going to spectacular, now that I'm here. We've got the whole day ahead of us, hope you haven't made any plans, 'cause they're canceled."

"Just woke up ten minutes ago." Mello raised an eyebrow. The redhead had obviously slept in his clothes. Lazy fuck. The younger boy yawned, as if to further prove the fact that he was indeed the least motivated person /in the building/.

"Well, do whatever you need to to wake up. You're not napping on me motherfucker." Mello spoke like his usual, unpreoccupied-with-L, self. 'Motherfucker' was just one of many terms of endearment.

Matt leaned across the bed, reaching into his bedside table for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He set one between his lips, quirking an auburn eyebrow in a silent, do you mind, sort of way. The blond shrugged.

Mello stood, emptying his pack. Matt watched in silent curiosity, flicking ashes into a nearby container as Mello poured the beverages. He filled each cup with half of the liquor, topping each off with the cola.

"It tastes like shit. The soda is supposed to cover it up. Don't know, haven't tried this yet myself." Each boy took an experimental sip, both grimacing, setting the cups back down. Mello should have known not to trust the internet, but he couldn't very well have asked Roger, or even L, if the information was factual. If anything, the whiskey tasted that much worse when mixed with the sugary, fizzy beverage. After taking a moment to recover, the blond shrugged, took a breath, swallowed another sip. His friend, not wanting to be left out, did the same.

Mello got up to peruse Matt's collecting of dvds, selecting a horror flick he hadn't yet seen. They lounged on the bed, laughing when someone ran /up the damn stairs/ from the slasher villain, commenting on how the blood was too red, the weapon was obviously fake, or 'hey, wasn't he in that other flick, you know, the one with the tarantulas?'.

While they watched, Matt had rather stealthily (which was his style) slid closer to his friend. He ended up laying on Mello's outstretched arm, watching his expressions instead of the screen. He noted how those big blue eyes widened when the character's guts spilled to the floor, agreeing that yes, that was indeed watered down ketchup, and no he would not be enjoying spaghetti for the next month at least.

The blond teen had lost his breath in a fit of hysterical giggles at some particularly bad acting, rolling onto his side to face his friend, who suddenly looked very serious. Mello saw the way Matt's green eyes had darkened, the way they looked straight into his own, for once not hidden by the ridiculous goggles. They were very close, almost nose to nose. The younger boy had slipped his hand behind his friend's head, forcing his face that much closer, then he took a deep, steadying breath. They were kissing, Matt now rolling his friend onto his back, resting on top of him. He wasn't sure what he was doing, but he hadn't been slapped away yet, so he continued. His tongue slid between Mello's lips, attempting to mimic what he'd seen in the movies, read in books. This was when their tongues were supposed to meet, when Mello /should/ grab the collar of his shirt to keep him from pulling away. Mello was /supposed/ to make little pleased noises into his mouth, he was supposed to be pulling at the hem of his shirt, wildly trying to undress him.

The blond lay very still, somewhere between suprised and frightened, as Matt caressed his cheek, still kissing him. He never thought to kiss him back. In all their years together, it had never once crossed his mind. Friendship wasn't the kind of thing you let get screwed up for the sake of experiment. It wasn't that his friend wasn't a great person, attractive even, but they were /best friends/. What the hell was going on? Was Matt drunk? Out of his mind? He'd never expressed these feelings before, and now he was just kissing him like it was to be expected. Had he been giving off some kind of signals?

Matt broke the kiss as soon as he noticed that Mello wasn't responding. Oh shit. He didn't want this. At all. As much as the younger boy /did/ want this, he couldn't keep pushing if he knew both of them weren't enjoying it. He rolled off of his friend, going to sit at the head of the bed, avoiding eye contact.

"I'm sorry. Really. I'm really really sorry." It had been the most amazing feeling of his short life, lips touching, warm body underneath him. Not just any warm body, but that one. Mello was so pretty.

"It's not you. Honest it's not."

"Yeah, sure it's not. I get it. I should have known that I wasn't enough."

"It's not like that! It's...I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't. It's supposed to be a secret. It's so complicated. It's why I haven't seen much of you. And I'm a shit for it. I should have just told you." When did everything get so complicated? Why was Matt going from embarrassed, to obviously angry. He couldn't help how he felt. "It's really not you."

"No, I get it. It's L, isn't it? I fucking should have known." He was jealous, he was offended. He was mad. At Mello? Yeah, what was so great about L? And why couldn't Mello have told him. Didn't he trust him? Apparently not.

"I was going to tell you, but with Near already knowing...if we're found out..."

"You told Near, and not me? Not your /best friend/." His worst enemy knew. He wondered how long. And he was so nice to Near. The least the little brat could have done was told him. It was probably obvious to everyone how he felt about the blond. He followed him around like a trained dog. He sat and begged and fetched like a good boy.

"I didn't tell him! He just knew. I don't know how. We're so careful." The redhead looked so upset. He placed his goggles back over his eyes, effectively hiding whatever it was that he was feeling. He took some more sips of the now warm whiskey and cola, lit a cigarette. Mello finished off the rest of his own drink, not bothered by the taste anymore, he was too terrified to notice. If Matt hated him for this...oh God help him.

"Did you have sex?" The words flew out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"Matt, please."

"Shouldn't I know when my best friend, /only/ friend, has lost his virginity? You would have told me if it was anybody else."

"That's exactly it! Do you want me to get kicked out? Do you want L to get thrown in prison?"

"Maybe." Honesty isn't always the best policy, but sometimes you just can't help yourself. Surely he'd meant to say no. He recalled that this type of mistake was referred to as a 'Freudian Slip'.

"We'd never work Matt. You let me do whatever I want. You can't help it. He balances me. You should find someone who's not going to take such advantage of your passiveness. I'd destroy you."

"I don't care."

"You don't mean it. It's just a crush. You'll get over it. Don't wreck our friendship on some silly whim."

"I don't want to be friends. I want you to love me back. I can't take another day of looking at you and not being able to touch you." Matt wished that he could pass this admission off on a Freudian slip as well, but this was not a subconscious desire. This was in the forefront of his mind /constantly/. It was unbearable. He wanted his friend to feel the same way, knew that if he just tried, it could happen. /He/ belonged with Mello, not L. L was like something out of Dario Argento film. A walking corpse. Mello was just too fucking beautiful for that perverted freak.

As Mello heard it, his friend was telling him that he could either he give him what he wanted, right now, or they would never see each other again. He often had to read between the lines with Matt, who really could be very cryptic. It wasn't as if he was trying to be mysterious, or that he was shy (Mello could not stand shyness, he loved to talk, and damn it, you would respond, or suffer the consequences) this was just the way Matt was. The blond was devoted to his lover, so much so that he would die for him if he could, but he could not let his best friend leave. If this was what it would take to keep their friendship, then he had to do it. He would not be abandoned. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey on the nightstand and took a long drink. Then another. The burn didn't even bother him anymore.

Mello crawled across the bed to where the redhead sat, head still bowed. The blond grabbed his chin, somewhat forcefully, tilting the younger boy's head up, faces again just centimeters apart. He kissed him, tongue pushing past his lips. He met little hesitation from the other, whose eyes were open wide in shock, but whose hands were already sliding up under the blonde's shirt. Mello closed the gap between the rest of their bodies, sitting between Matt's legs. He broke the kiss, yanked the goggles off of his friend's face, made eye contact. Determined blue staring into confused but excited green.

"You can have me if you want me. If that's what it takes," the blond spoke with his mouth nearly resting on his friend's neck, "I'm yours." He licked the spot, right below the ear, that drove L crazy. He tried to push his lover from his guilty mind, but it was hard when Matt reacted so much like the other. The only difference was that the detective would have already been frantically stripping the blonde's clothes, then his own. The redhead just sat there, stunned still, though his breathing was speeding up and Mello could feel his heart slamming against the wall of his chest, as they were pressed so closely together.

"Mello, I..." What, he didn't know. 'I thought you didn't want me like this,' possibly, or 'I don't know what I'm doing.' Definately the second, since right now his heart and mind (as well as his lower anatomy) were cheering that finally the beautiful boy was returning his feelings. This couldn't be more perfect.

Mello was trying to picture L as he pulled Matt's black and white striped shirt over his head, then took off his own. He kissed down the younger man's chest, trying to imagine his lover's voice when he heard his name moaned softly. It was difficult, though Matt had a similar monotone, L's voice was much deeper.

As much as Matt had wanted this, he was terrified that he wouldn't know what to do to please Mello in return. The older boy had already had sex, probably more than once, and obviously knew what /he/ was doing. However, sometime during the internal struggle between self doubt and desire to /just keep going/ his hands found their way to Mello's belt, though they were immediately slapped away.

"No. I was bad. I'm apologizing." Matt did as he was directed, letting Mello continue to kiss and touch and rub against him. The blond was unzipping Matt's fly, sliding a hand inside. The redhead knew he could let it go on like this, but he did want Mello to feel good too. That was what sex was supposed to be about.

"Please, I want to touch you. It's not fair."

Oh. So this wasn't enough for Matt, he wanted more. Mello read between the lines, seeing something much different than what his friend had meant. He figured it was probably going to hurt, /a lot, so he took another drink from the whiskey bottle, then removed his jeans, laying down on his stomach. "You can do whatever you want. I won't stop you."

So this was what Matt had been daydreaming about, lying there naked, inviting, skin seeming to glow with that permanent golden tan. He almost let himself do it, until he realized that, no, this was not what he was daydreaming about. There certainly hadn't been rose petals and candlelight, but the temperamental blond was /never/ submissive either. He should be clawing, growling, not laying there waiting like a sex doll that breathed...And shivered? When had that started? He cursed himself for not having noticed before. Sure, it was February, but the room was anything but cold. He reached for the blonde's shoulder, hating himself when the other boy instinctively jerked away.

"Mello, are you crying?" He received no response. "Mello?"

"Just fuck me already." The answer would have sounded more threatening if it weren't for the shivering, or the muffled sniffling that followed the words. He /was/ crying. He was crying because he really didn't want to do it. Because L might be mad. Because Matt was his best friend, and while he had used to think that he could trust this person not to hurt him in any way, /ever, he had lost his faith. Matt didn't love him. He just /wanted/ him.

"Come on, get up. Get your pants back on. I can't do this. Not like this."

"What did I do?" Mello rolled onto his back, spreading his legs, trying to entice the boy to finish what they'd started. If he just let it happen, it would be over. Matt would have what he wanted and he wouldn't leave him. He had to make this right. Maybe once would be enough, it'd be out of his friend's system, and they could go back to normal.

"You're right. Being friends means too much to do this. This is wrong. I was wrong." So, so wrong. Mello obviously didn't want it. Had never wanted it and never would. Even now, when the blond was smirking in that evil way of his, running a hand up his very very naked thigh, they weren't making eye contact. Mello always looked everyone straight in the eye, he imagined that this behavior was for the same reason as a wild cat, to challenge, to show dominance, to scare the unholy hell out of anything that dared cross it's path for any reason other than to worship it like it deserved. This was obviously all wrong. The boy did not submit to anyone. Matt wondered, perversely, if his friend topped their favorite detective, then immediately pushed the image out of his head. His thoughts were scattered in a thousand different directions. Must be the lack of blood to the brain.

"Really, it's ok. I want it. I love you." Mello jumped into his friend's lap, pleading with his eyes. He looked desperate, crazed. There were still tears in his eyes that he hadn't even bothered to wipe away.

"Me too. That's why it's not happening." He lifted the blond out of his lap, retrieved his jeans, handing them over and politely turning his head. "That's why I can't make you do something you don't want to. That's not what you do when you're in love."

"People do it all the time." Calmer now, the older boy was sliding his jeans back up, fastening them, then reaching for his shirt. He wasn't yet convinced that his friend had given up, but he was so cold, and for once very uncomfortable with being nude in front of someone he thought of as the brother he never had.

"Those people only love themselves. Mello, I get more satisfaction out of your achievements than you do. I'm happy just because you're happy. You think I'd ever make you do something you don't want to?" He must have drank too much, to be so straightforward. But once the blond got an idea stuck in his head, you had to walk through the fires of hell to shake him out of it.

"Swear you'll never leave me." The blond was so demanding. Offer him your very soul in a bottle and he'd ask for half your heart along with it.

"I fucking swear it. I'll take whatever I can get. Just promise /me/ I'll see you more, and no more secrets. It's my birthday. That's what I want."

"I swear, on my honor." Mello smirked. "But I'm not giving you any details pervert."

"But it's my birthday!" The boy whined, mostly kidding.


	14. Intimacy or Perversion?

A/N:

Yes, it is possible to obtain an injury, a serious injury in this manner, under these circumstances. I know this, not by personal experience, but from the experience of a friend...Let's just say, it wasn't pretty.

We're a little over halfway there and I know where I'm going with it so updates will be fairly regular - hopefully AT LEAST every day.

This one's kinda short compared to the last two but, enjoy it anyway. Review - they give me the strength to go on...c'mon, you know you wanna.

Thank you to Ls.potential.rapist (love your screen name btw...) and Darkness-Bride for your lovely reviews. I aim to please.

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CHAPTER 14

INTIMACY OR PERVERSION?

It should have come as no surprise to either of them when the discovery was finally made. There were enough obvious signs, if only one was looking hard enough. The biggest of course being that they now spent every night locked in L's bedroom. Though the room was far separated from most everyone else, if timed right, anyone could have seen the blond teenager leaving for classes from there instead of the room he had occupied since his arrival. They could have been more cautious, taken more time to worry over the small details. But, as the cliched saying goes, hindsight is twenty twenty. And love, like justice, is blind.

Looking back on it, Mello should have considered that Roger might have a key to even L's room. Because of course neither of them would have forgotten to lock the door, that day of all days, especially considering the position that they were in when it swung open, revealing the usually even-tempered, quiet old man. Roger was often scolding the both of them, for various reasons. Mello, for childish pranks or outrageous bursts of violence. L, for leaving candy wrappers _all over_ Roger's desk (why did he need to use it anyway? he had access to one of his own). Roger never rose his voice though, not until today.

The teenager became aware of the situation first, since L's back was to the door, and he was quite caught up in chanting his lover's name as he came inside him (For someone who hardly ever raised their voice, L was surprisingly vocal in bed). He had to have heard the door slam shut, the old man striding towards the bed as fast as he physically could, his cane punctuating every other step. Still, the detective made no move to lift himself up, or even to turn his head, opting to snuggle closer to his lover's warm body and ride out his final waves of pleasure.

Mello cried out in pain when the man was pulled off of him. L had still been inside, and the force with which they were separated hurt like _fucking hell_. The blond rolled over onto his side, curling into the fetal position in response to the burning sensation in his ass. The area was sensitive enough after orgasm - after having been wrenched apart so suddenly, it felt as if his insides had been pulled out after L.

The force, and possibly the post-orgasmic haze, left L unsteady on his feet. He over corrected, falling on the floor face first. He just lay there for a minute, stone still. Roger did not wait for the detective to stand, his face red and breath short as he screamed.

"How could you!" He jabbed the stunned genius with his cane. "Get up and face me."

L finally did just that, coming to stand very close to the old man, staring him down. He did nothing to cover his nakedness, did not reach for a blanket, or put his hands in front of himself. Shame was a concept lost on the detective, and besides, he was far too busy yelling back.

"How could _I_? This is _my_bedroom. That was my very intimate moment uneccessarily ruined by your intrusion." For all the times he had expressed concern over being found out, L had come to terms with the fact that this secret could not be kept forever, though now was much sooner than he'd hoped for, if only for the reason that he'd rather spend time _doing _than _explaining_. There was no shame in him anymore, only a desire to keep it for as long as they could.

"How dare you use a word like _'intimate' _to describe this perversion!" The old man had to stop, catching his breath. It had been years since he'd been this angry. The last time it had possibly come this close was when his friend and colleague had suggested the idea of Wammy's House. Roger had always been slightly put off by everything about the young L, and the idea that Wammy wanted to run the orphanage began work on as a training camp for future replacements of the scary little boy, was totally out of the question. Wammy had simply replied that it would be his own fault when one day there was no one to solve the unsolvable. Did he wish to let the most dangerous and elusive of criminals run free to do as they willed? To which, Roger replied, 'Most certainly not!'...

Roger Ruvie learned the hard way that he should take more time thinking than he does speaking.

"A perversion can simply mean a deviation of the norm, or generally accepted. I admit that what you intruded upon is indeed unusual, but you do not fully understand the situation - "

"Like hell I don't." Watari had always had a problem with cursing, his opinion was that there were enough descriptive words in the English language that one ought not to use them. Roger's take on this, being of about the same age and upbringing, was similar. Yet some instances demanded the addition of such words. If only for emphasis.

"Mello and I were merely using our bodies to express our love for one another."

"You were..._molesting _a child!" 'Molesting' was not the word that came to mind initially, but others were too difficult to say. Even now the descriptions caused bile to rise in his throat. He swallowed the feeling down, trying to push back the images burned in his brain that were threatening to cause full-on physical illness. He couldn't bring himself to look toward the bed just yet, where he knew the child was cringing in pain and terror. He'd always known L wasn't _normal_, was possibly even _insane _but this was far beyond even his wildest imaginings. It reminded him of an early failed experiment at Wammy's, with someone who he'd also warned was too dangerous to encourage. He'd been right then. He was obviously correct now.

"To say that would imply that Mello does not desire this as I do. At first I was also afraid of the feelings I had developed, even when I was reassured that they were indeed reciprocated. We often argue over who is more enamored with the other. Though I can not imagine that anyone could possibly feel as strongly as I do, that no one would even be capable of it, Mello obstinately insists that it is he who is more in love." The detective did not feel that he had to justify their relationship to anyone, especially this person, who had obviously never liked him very much. He wondered why Roger hated him so, especially when he was kind enough to weekly rearrange the caretaker's office, or leave half eaten slices of cake in his favorite chair as a gifts. Ungrateful old bastard.

Just as Roger was about to utter more accusation, a high pitched screech came from the direction of the bed. Mello's hands were over his ears, eyes squeezed shut against frustrated tears. He was still in a fair amount of pain, and they were arguing about something that very much involved him without bothering to ask for his take, or even acknowledging his presence. He could explain all of this simply. L's eloquent speeches were obviously doing them no good. Being the person that he was, the teen believed that he knew exactly what to say to make this all stop.

"I fucking _want it _Roger! You _can't _take this away from me! Not ever! So just fucking leave us alone!"

"You don't know what you want Mello. He's just tricked you into believing that it's your doing. He's in the wrong here," Roger argued, speaking as if the boy was a small child and not a teenager.

Mello wondered how it was fair that if you weren't 16, your desires didn't matter. The adults all thought they knew it better. If he was just a little older, they wouldn't have a say, but because he was a 'kid' they were going to pull his whole world out from under him 'for his own good'.

Roger moved around L, who he'd been practically nose-to-nose with for the duration of the argument. Would have been if he was just a few inches taller and several years younger. L moved to stop him, but was met with a warning glare and the tip of a cane to his gut to halt him in his steps. Roger sat at the foot of the bed, pulling a blanket over the lap of the child that sat there, naked, and vulnerable, and obviously very confused.

"Don't touch me!" The teen screamed, batting away the hand that reached to smooth his sex-mussed blonde locks.

"I'm not going to hurt you. And neither is he. Ever again." Roger bent to reach for the boy's clothing that had been tossed to the floor, despite the protests that his aching back made. He was too old for this, all of this. He wondered how Wammy handled caring for his charge, lifting trays of tea, guiding an exhausted twenty-three year old up all those steps to his bedroom when he fell asleep in a chair in the library. He even tied the man's shoes for Christ's sake! The little pervert took advantage of that poor old man, who never once complained.

"He doesn't hurt me. He makes love to me." Mello protested but was ignored as Roger had been pulling the teen to his feet, trying to look away while he handed over a pair of black jeans. There had been two pairs of boxer shorts in a pile, but Roger did not feel like asking which belonged to the boy. They appeared to be the same size.

Sadly, it was his desire to not watch the naked blond put on his clothes that made him notice the pool of blood on the now deserted white sheets. He'd seen his fair share of bloody noses, scraped knees, and other common childhood injuries before (many of them either afflicting, or having been caused by the rambunctious boy in question). He'd certainly been forced to tend to them himself on several occasions. This was considerably more blood than he'd ever seen in person however. Unlike Wammy and his pet genius, he did not like to be involved in the criminal cases, _especially _the bloody ones.

"Mello, do you really expect me to believe that?" Roger gestured to the stain, still so red and shiny wet. He was perversely thankful that his anger distracted him from his stomach's impulse to heave back up his evening tea and toast.

Mello wanted to scream that it was Roger's own fault, having forcefully yanked L out of him, causing the injury. However, it was at this time that some of the shock wore off and his system registered the loss of blood, some of which still trickled down his thigh, plastering the jeans to his skin. He hadn't considered the feeling until just then, somewhat used to another substance doing something similar, being the reason they always showered straight after sex. L didn't mind being sticky and sweaty, but Mello was nearly obsessive about it, all the while stubbornly refusing to let L use condoms. He suspected that neither of them quite knew how to put one on anyway. Having practiced on a banana in sexual health studies was nearly pointless because the male anatomy hardly resembled the yellow fruit (how misleading), and therefore did not count.

Mello's legs were betraying him. He wanted to stand and fight this, and he could have, if his knees had not chosen that time to lock up, making him fall to the floor. He was very cold, which must mean that it had been a lot of blood. He gagged, trying desperately not to throw up. Why was it that the human body responded in this way? The reaction only ever made the matter worse. His vision began to get hazy around the edges, the blackness closing in from all directions. He couldn't see Roger from where he knelt, reaching out to catch him. He thought he saw L rushing forward to do the same. There was another voice sounding from the open (open?) door, but he didn't have the time to question who it might be, before he had to give up and let his body take him somewhere where the yelling ceased and unconciousness promised relief from the physical and mental strain.


	15. Please Explain

A/N: In which L finds out something about Mello's past. And poor Watari is at a loss with what to do with his child.

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CHAPTER 15

PLEASE EXPLAIN

L had not been allowed to help carry the teen out of the room. The nurse had been called up, along with Matt, who'd been loitering in the hall when the screaming started. The boy had given L a glare that would have been terrifying if not interrupted by the ever present goggles to hide the coldness in his eyes. Roger could hang for all the detective cared, but he couldn't stand to think that any of the children think poorly of him, especially one of his favorites.

Wammy's office was cheerier than Roger's. It was decorated with various college degrees (in multiple areas) as well as awards for achievements in his original career as an inventor. Some of his more interesting inventions were displayed throughout. L felt so proud whenever he sat in this room. If anyone was on his level of intelligence and achievement, other than Mello of course, it had to be this man. The father he never had (considering that he did not remember the one that had donated his DNA).

Watari had arrived just as the teen had blacked out, looking very confused and concerned. He'd seen Roger, looking more ruffled than usual (which was saying a lot), and had himself stopped his surrogate child from crossing the room. He was very perceptive, and knew that the anger that showed clearly on his colleague's features was directed towards L. He asked no questions, simply stepping aside to allow Mello to be lifted off the floor and carried out of the room. Roger had followed, telling L that he had could explain the situation himself. Roger was going to see that the teen was in stable condition, then have at least one stiff drink, possibly even somewhere off grounds.

Watari had waited for his charge to dress, both of them silent. The young detective let himself be led downstairs, head hanging, hands in his pockets. He still had not looked the older man in the eyes, fearful of what he might see there. If there was anger, it would be devastating. Disappointment, however, could be a killing blow. He had seen that less than a handful of times, no matter how badly he misbehaved. Even though he felt, without any doubt whatsoever, that this was not something to be ashamed of, if Watari decided to hate him then his life might as well be over.

"Please, child, look at me. I won't have this conversation with the top of your head."

L took several deep breaths. They'd sat in silence for exactly nineteen minutes and twelve seconds. This was very uncommon. As equal geniuses they always had _something _to talk about. This was the very first time that L did not look forward to the conversation. He chewed his thumb, gnawing at the skin around the nail, finally tasting some blood. The pain grounded him somewhat, giving him enough courage to finally tilt his head upward. Fear and shame were so foreign to him. He had an overwhelming urge to spring out of his seat to beg for a comforting embrace. He recalled that last time he'd felt the need for a hug from his father figure was when a criminal he had been about to bring to justice had hung himself the evening before his sentencing. Justice had been thwarted by merciful death. He did not believe in capital punishment, as it was an escape. He felt he could do with an escape just then, since he was certain that he would not be receiving any offers of human comfort.

"Boy, for once I am at a loss. I can come to conclusions on my own, seeing as how you were completely nude, Mello is being treated for severe blood loss, and Roger has driven to town for an evening at the bar. However, I would rather hear a proper explanation."

It was then that L gave the quickest version of the story that he could, starting all the way back at his twenty-third birthday and the thoughts he'd been having. Though near the end of the tale, which was reaching half an hour, L did something both men had not expected. Something Watari had seen only once before, when L was very young. The man dropped to his knees on the floor, forehead practically touching the carpet. He finished his story through sobs that left him breathless. His tears stung his eyes so much so that they were sore, hard to keep open. His head had begun to throb from it. His whole body shook. He had seen and heard so many things that would've made most people react this way, all the while remaining calm and seeing things with scientific eyes. He was just so lost. He thought of the children at his first orphanage, crying where were they, where was mommy and daddy. This was what they must have felt.

"You realize that what you have been doing is wrong?" He was not scolding, merely stating a fact. Even so, the old man was crossing the room to kneel next to the man, his child, pulling him into a hug. The detective laid his head on the old man's chest, and was rewarded wirh the the stroking of his tangled mess of jet black hair.

"No."

L tensed in the embrace, ready to be cast away. He was not going to agree, not even with Watari. It couldn't be wrong. Nothing was going to change his mind, even if the ordeal really did kill him. He supposed if Roger had his way that it would. He envisioned himself hung in the front yard, dangling from a tree branch as he suffocated. Most hangings did not result in the snapping of the neck. The victim, more often than not, had to suffer his last breaths as he helplessly swung, onlookers morbidly cheering and counting how long it took. If you were lucky, you'd black out in a few moments. Your last sight the devilish vision of the hooded hangman awaiting your pair of boots. Some countries still practiced this form of execution. At least the guillotine was out of use these days, though it was probably a much more bearable way to exit this plane of existence.

"Mello is going to be alright, physically."

Watari imagined that the stubborn teen, if conscious yet, was indeed giving his caretakers what for. He hated to be tended to for even the slightest injuries, having always been self-reliant. He'd once had to have stitches after a brutal game outdoors. He'd first wanted to clean the wound himself, then had even asked if he could do the procedure. Presumably, he'd have done alright, though he was denied the chance. Emergency first aid was one of the many subjects meticulously covered in the children's education.

"I have done no damage to his mental state."

Watari hesitated, choosing his response carefully. "L, you described what you had been doing before Roger's interruption as 'making love'. This description does not make sense where the boy's injuries are concerned. There was quite a lot of blood. I saw this with my own two eyes."

It would be rather embarrassing for anyone to explain, but L had to make Watari understand. He could not have him believe that he would ever hurt Mello, intentionally or accidentally. "I believe that the force with which Roger separated us may have led to that. It has never happened. I would not allow it to. I get no pleasure from inflicting pain, especially not where he is concerned."

"I'm not sure I understand."

Damn it, L thought.

"We were still.../_connected/_...when Roger pulled us apart. Rather forcefully. Extricating oneself from that kind of connection requires extreme care. Homosexual couples are at a severe disadvantage in that respect." He hoped Watari understood. He'd made it as clear as possible, while attempting to not be explicit in his explanation. Watari must have indeed understood, since his mouth opened in a little 'o' of realization.

"You must admit child, that the scene was indeed...shocking." The old man considered himself very fortunate that he had not come in when he had first heard the commotion. He had seen both the boys nude, having watched each grow up. The detective was so comfortable around him that he often dressed when Watari was in the room. Yet somehow, he imagined the scene would have been too much to take in. It was difficult for any parent to see their child as a sexual being. Even now, seeing the dark haired man's neck decorated with perfect little imprints of the blonde's teeth, having seen similar marks decorating his lower belly and hips.

"The only part of it all that I find shocking is that you insist on taking that bastard's stance on the matter." L was surprised at himself, to a degree. He never directly lashed out at Watari. When advice was given, he either took it into careful consideration, or ignored it completely, depending on how agreeable he was feeling at that particular moment. This was far different, however, than the old man suggesting that perhaps he ought to bathe more often, or to please not taunt the nice criminal. Watari was implying that the beautiful act he had been sharing with Mello was not only wrong, but...disgusting. How dare anyone try to cheapen this? They had no right to an opinion.

"Please, for once in your young life listen to someone else."

"My dear Wammy, do you have any idea how many boys Mello's age are currently engaging in sexual relationships, in this very building?" The detective had never been one to worry over the private lives of the students. It had always been Roger's job, that's what Watari had picked him for, he was so damned /nosey/. However, L did notice the signs, and Mello was kind enough to fill in the details if he'd heard some interesting gossip, or had to find a different bathroom because a couple had locked themselves in. It was only natural for teenagers to let their hormones get the better of them.

"I do my best to ignore it, as long as they are not harming themselves in any way. However, neither party is ever a man that is ten years the senior in the partnership. Has it crossed your mind that Mello has always looked up to, since he was a very small child? Did you consider that perhaps he does not know how to distinguish his feelings of respect and admiration, from that of a romantic nature? Students often develop 'crushes' on their teachers." Watari had come to realize that L really did believe what he was saying, he had very deep feelings for the boy. There was a good chance that this had been the first time the boy had felt romantic towards anyone. The father in him had to cast aside his concern for the teen, if only for a moment, because he was now very worried that the detective was going to have his heart broken. L expressed, and dealt with, emotion differently than most, but he did have emotions (as much as he hated to admit it). This could very likely devastate him when it ended, and surely it had to. If only he could make L understand.

"You of all people should be able to accept this. We've had a number of discussions on ethics and social norms. In some societies, there are practices that terrify and disgust others. It is only imposed social morals that make you and Roger feel the way you do. I have always seen you as someone who matches my own intelligence, if not surpasses it. However, your opinion is...stupid. Utterly _ridiculous_."

"You can not love this child. And he is going through a time where his feelings are made more intense by hormones. Add to that the fact that he is an orphan, who would naturally seek the love that they feel has been denied. And you are someone who he strives to be like."

"You still don't understand." L had lain there through the discussion, his head now resting in the old man's lap. The comforting touches had not yet ceased, yet with each word he was beginning to regret seeking the contact, to regret pouring his soul out to another who just couldn't see past the circumstances to the depth beneath. He scooted away from Watari, cursing himself when he felt a little colder again, a little more alone.

"It is you who does not understand." The old man sighed. Despite how he tried to look at this from the outside, to be the rational adult, it was pulling him apart. He didn't know who he ought to feel more sorry for. But this had to stop. "Have you ever reviewed any of your potential successors' files? The areas about their time before they came here in peticular?"

"Why should I? I know their names and birth dates. The rest of the details are of no importance to me." The boys had all been too young to remember their past lives, L included. He could not picture his parents' faces, had seen photographs possibly twice in his lifetime. It had not effected the person he had become.

"I believe that Mello's past plays a much larger role in this than you realize." When the blond had first been brought into his care, the signs of abuse had been obvious, the physical and emotional. He was covered in bruises, hated to be touched, screamed when any adult male came close. He was brought to a therapist who specialized in such cases, though he never responded to questioning. He had been too young to understand /_what_/ had happened to him, and as time when on, he seemed to /_forget_/ completely. Watari did not know if the stubborn child had completely suppressed the memories, though the psychologist had suggested that the denial was indeed genuine after just a few months. It had been decided to let the boy forget, at least until a time when he was old enough to properly deal with the news.

"Please explain."

The old man carefully pushed himself up from the floor, his legs having begun to go numb from the position. L still had no interest in reading the large stack of papers that were being handed to him. The first page had the expected - a birth certificate, forms with Quillsh Wammy and Roger Ruvie's signatures for transfer to the boy's new home. There were a few photographs of Mello, and two equally blond young people that resembled him. He looked very much like his father, though the color of his mother's eyes were an exact match. He also shared the ferocious, cat-like grin of his father, though it looked much more frightening plastered on that face than the one L had come to adore.

Watari was making an obvious effort in averting his eyes. L continued on, curiosity now piqued. There were more pages of boring details, then something unexpected. There were police reports in L's file too, though they simply detailed the deaths of his parents.

"He was sexually assaulted." Watari had not needed to confirm this. The detective was now seeing the proof with his own eyes. There were the police reports, as well as documents from a nearby hospital, photos included. There were results of several psychological evaluations, hand-written notes in the margins. "His own father was the offender. On numerous occasions." It had been years since Wammy had last looked at these reports, yet he could recite them by memory. Even now, he could have closed his eyes and seen the pictures in vivid detail.

Mello had always been a violent, unpredictable boy. His history explained why he was always prone to anger, set off by even the slightest of trigger. His behavior made sense, if one were to consider post traumatic stress and repressed memories. Finally an explanation of the disturbing incident that occurred on Mello's birthday...

"I must see him." L closed the folder, returning it to it's home in the filing cabinet. He did not need to see any more.

"I can not allow you to do that." L only blinked.

"Maybe so. But I will see him regardless."


	16. Inner Child

A/N: In which the great L has a bit of a nervous breakdown.

Ls.potential.rapist : I'm glad you didn't see it coming, I was hoping to give everyone a little surprise, and don't worry, I'm going to keep the updates coming as fast as I can.

maripose sabrosa: Thank you so much for the compliments and I'm glad you see the relationship in the way I intended. I was afraid everyone was going to think L was a complete pervert. btw - that happens to be one of my favorite lines. I'm glad you liked it!

THANK YOU BOTH FOR THE REVIEWS!

CHAPTER 16

INNER CHILD

Mello had woken part way through the examination, still groggy from loss of blood and the mild sedative they had given him. The room made an attempt to feel less like an infirmary, decorated with drawings done by some of the more artistically inclined students he lived with, boxes full of toys, and classical music playing softly. It still smelled and looked mostly like a hospital room, however, each bed surrounded by white curtains that hung from a ceiling on a sliding track, the scent of lemony cleaners assaulting the senses. He had always had an extreme dislike of the place, mostly for the fact that it tried to hide it's main purpose with those cheery decorations.

"Shh, just lie down, try to get some rest." Someone was standing behind him, petting his hair. Another was gripping his arm, a needle poised at the bend of his elbow. "Don't worry, just a little pinch and you'll be able to get right back to sleep. Please be still."

/_Like hell_/.

Mello thrashed, throwing his whole body into an attempt to escape the poison she intended to deliver. He'd slept fucking long enough. And /_no one_, other than L was about to stick anything inside him, anywhere, without his expressed permission. Where was he anyway? Didn't he knew that Mello /_needed_/ him right now? How could he be letting this happen?

To his delight, both women were having an impossible time at keeping him still. He kicked, screamed, reached out to bite any appendage that dared come near him. He didn't need to calm down. He was plenty calm, laying in bed, safe underneath his lover. L made the most beautiful expressions when he was lost in pleasure, said the sweetest things. What the hell had happened to that?

"You've been seriously injured. Your body needs sleep to heal itself." Oh right. That was what had happened. That old pervert had walked in on them, not even having the decency to knock before barging through the door like a one-manned SWAT team. He pictured Roger heading some drug raid, first through the door, brandishing his cane in place of an automatic weapon. The image would have been funny if the blond weren't so very pissed off.

"We're going to need some help in here." That was the one trying to hold his head down, so he couldn't bite the other one.

"If one of us lets go..." /_Bitch/_. He was right /_there_/. How dare she talk about him like he was some wild animal? He smiled in satisfaction when he kicked a leg out, knocking the needle from her hand and sending it flying several feet away.

Once the threat the gone, he could better concentrate on his escape. He screamed, not taking a breath until his throat betrayed him. He gasped, screamed again, repeating the process until the younger of the two women loosened her grip, hands going instinctively to her ears. It was a very childish way to react, but if it helped, then he didn't care. If being a brat was what it took then he would play the part. Brattyness had always worked for L, no reason why it couldn't for him too. Though he couldn't ever remember L doing this exactly, he didn't exactly put it past him.

Unfortunately for the distressed teen, his screeching gained the attention of more adults, who ran to aid in his restraint. Soon there were enough adults in the room to successfully hold him down, while padded leather straps were fastened around his wrists and ankles. What the hell kind of facility was Wammy running? Now he knew why it was frequently called an 'institution'. He had seen this very same method used in interrogations, though at least the criminals got to /_sit in a chair_/. This was cruel and unusual.

"This is how you treat a poor defenseless kid?" Mello was being ignored. Mello hated to be ignored. The blond screamed, not paying attention to the protests his throat made. It was raw, it felt like he was swallowing fire, but still he screamed. It was then that he noticed how the rest of his body felt numb. They'd given him some serious painkillers. This made him even angrier, if it was possible. Part of being alive was feeling pain. It was how he knew you were human. Aside from that, the teen could have handled it. It wasn't that bad. So much fuss over nothing.

Just when the teen thought he could scream no more, and found that his restraints were indeed not budging, a rather disheveled (were those tear tracks?) raven haired detective stormed through the door. He marched straight to the cot, his usual posture slightly less crooked. He'd already removed three out of four of the restraints by the time Roger and Watari came through the door, seemingly racing to be first to the bed. Watari made it first, his paces not hindered by a cane like the other man.

"Just what in the hell do you people think you are doing? What gives you the right?" He shielded the boy, staring down the group, poised for a physical fight if need be. Mello wondered how many L could knock down before he ws stopped. Most, if not all. He was indeed stronger than he looked.

"What gives /_you_/ the right? How can you even show your face?" Some nodded in silent agreement to Roger's accusations, others stared on in bewilderment. It was comforting to know that the story had not been leaked to the entirety of the population. Though the handful that weren't confused was more than enough. "Get him out of here!"

No one moved, looking from one authority figure, to another, to another. Still, no one looked to Mello. No one /_cared_/. Mello sighed. Fine, if they weren't going to treat him like an adult, or at least an equal party, then he just wasn't talking to any of them. Finally, someone did turn in his direction. Though it was the very last person he ever wanted to see again, let alone speak to. But of course, Roger wasn't going to talk to him, just about him.

"He did this! This...pervert..." Roger faltered. Mello was not the only one that noticed the slight slurring of his words. Not a soul would listen to him in this state. Not a chance.

"Perhaps it would be better if you left the room, L."

_/Watari/_, of /_all/ _people, siding with Roger instead of his own child.

Both the teen and L looked at him in shock. The detective had known his stance on the matter, but he'd still not expected him to go this far. Now that Watari had spoken everyone was listening, and as several men moved to forcibly remove the detective from the infirmary, Mello cried. If he hadn't been so angry, L would have noticed that he was crying too. Twice in the same day. That was certainly something new, but there wasn't time to to consider it. They'd both been betrayed. They were both being left all alone, when they most needed each other.

Mello closed his eyes so he didn't have to see L's frantic expression as he was literally /_dragged/ _from his bedside by the male nurses, telling them he'd have their heads for this if they so much as /_thought/ _about putting Mello in those restraints again. The blond could have smiled had he not been so miserable...

The life they'd created together was the only thing in his life that didn't make him feel completely /_worthless/. _He didn't have to compete with anyone else for L's love, so he never had to suffer second place. There was no second place, only him. But now it was all burning and crumbling down on them, burying them in the smoldering debris. When he heard the door click shut, felt one of the women from before stroking his hair, telling him, '_There, there. We'll never let him hurt you again_,' he ignored her and let sleep take hold of him, too exhausted to scream or cry any longer. He wasn't blacking out again. He was just so /_damn tired_/.

* * *

L fought them every step of the way. It took five grown men twenty-three minutes and forty-two seconds to drag him from the infirmary door, and up the three flights of stairs to his room. The detective used every ounce of strength in his body, and though he didn't exactly 'win', he took comfort in the fact that not one of them would walk away unscathed. It also helped his bruised ego to know that when he sorted this mess out, he was still the one that paid their salaries.

They were /so fired/.

The worst part had been Watari, though. At least he had the decency to look ashamed when he said, "I'm sorry, Lawliet. But this is for your own good," before he locked him in his room. He was a grown man, damn it! And here he was, locked up in his bedroom like a child who'd been grounded for staying out past curfew!

He was just /so angry/. He wanted to cry, and throw things, and scream that it wasn't fair...

...so he did.

For nearly an hour before he finally gave up and curled himself into a ball among the debris on the floor. His arms wrapped tight around his legs as if he would fall apart should he let go. And maybe he would, he didn't know anymore. Everything else had fallen apart. Why couldn't he?

* * *

Another two hours passed and L still hadn't moved from his position. All he really wanted was to lay down and go to sleep so he could wake up from this nightmare and have everything be ok again. Because it had to be a dream. This couldn't be real. This couldn't be happening to him. Not now! Not when everything had finally started to make sense! L buried his face in his knees, pulled at his hair with both hands. Why the hell couldn't he just fall asleep? This wasn't an issue anymore. His insomnia had improved nearly fifty-six percent since Mello -

Since he'd had Mello there to sleep beside him...

/Shit./

To think that this morning he'd been so happy, so completely content with everything in his life - something that had never happened for him in all his twenty-three years. Since he was a child, his existence revolved around trials and cases, blood and tears. Violence. Murderers. Rapists. Psychopaths...in short, his job. He'd made his career, his life. Hunting the most heinous criminals the world had ever seen and bringing them to justice. He was the three greatest detectives in the world. He was justice, and the thrill of the chase was...

...over when the case was closed.

Then he'd wait for another one to come along. And it would start over again. Hunt. Chase. Done. A vicious cycle to ease the boredom of an insatiable mind.

But all that had changed.

He wasn't just keeping himself busy anymore.

Now his life was built around a person, and the emotions that his presence drew out from wherever they'd been buried so long ago. This new life was all about love, respect, adoration. It was about touching and kissing. Having someone to hold and be held by in return, and it didn't interfere with his work.

If anything, he enjoyed being a detective now more than ever. These new things, these /happy/ things, made it so much easier because he knew that when the case was over, he wouldn't have to just sit and wait until another one came along. There was something right there beside him that could hold his interest, twenty-four hours a day if he wished. With Mello, his brain was never idle, he was learning something new everyday. There was always a brand new puzzle to solve, one that he might never finish!

There were other things too. His lover made him so much more aware. Of himself, and everything else around him. Being with Mello forced him to take a really good look at himself, and notice everything he'd been missing all these years. The voids inside himself, he'd never thought to fill mostly because he didn't understand any problem that couldn't be solved through evidence and equations.

Mello was his constant reminder that he was a human being, not a crime-solving machine built around a brilliant computer.

He'd never realized just how alone he'd felt until he found out what it was like to be with another human being who understood you. Someone who could keep up with you if you wanted to have a philosophical debate about utilitarianism in modern society. Mello could do that for him. So could Near or Watari, Matt, even Roger but none of them had that firey passion with which the blond used to get his points across.

He'd never realized how badly he needed human contact until he'd laced their fingers together, driven by pure instinct. With Mello's warm palm pressed against his own, he suddenly felt more complete than ever before. And then again, the first time they kissed, when he could feel the icy shell that he hadn't noticed growing around his heart for /years, begin to melt.

He hadn't realized how badly he needed a break, how long it had been since he'd had /real/ fun until Mello had crept up on him one day while he was absorbed in a case. There he was, minding his own business, completely unaware of what was about to happen when the blonde pounced on him, knocking him right off his chair. He began to tickle the detective mercilessly. It wasn't until Mello had forced him to laugh so hard for so long that his lungs screamed for oxygen, that he'd realized he'd almost forgotten how.

He'd never realized how so very /tired/ he was until he woke up one morning to find he'd slept an entire eight hours! For years he'd been running on maybe eight hours of sleep per /week/ but there he was, dragging himself out of an actual bed for once after a full night's rest spent curled around Mello's warm body. That day, he noticed things he hadn't before, things he'd missed because his lack of sleep would only allow him to concentrate on one subject at a time and work was just more important. The world looked so different, full of new colors, and sounds, and smells.

There were even things about Mello he hadn't noticed before. Like the way the corners of his lips naturally curved up just enough so it almost looked as if he were smiling even when he wasn't. Or the way his blue eyes would darken and lighten at the drop of his hat right along with his moods. For instance, when he was sad they would be a soft, pastel that looked like Caribbean waters when they welled up with tears. When he was happy, they were the color of the sky on a clear, sunny summer afternoon. When he was turned on, they'd cloud over and darken to a color L could only describe as indigo. And L /loved/ each and every shade but his favorite was only present when Mello was /very, /truly/ angry. Because when Mello got mad, his eyes would turn to /ice/. The irises would become so pale that you could hardly call them blue anymore. They reflected light like the hundreds of tiny facets on a diamond. Then there was the effect they had. Only those who had been the subject of Mello's rage could tell you what it was like, but those who survived would say that when he fixed you with that particular gaze, you'd feel your blood crystallize in your veins and run cold.

Mello's eyes were a puzzle all their own, one L never would have thought to solve. From that day on, he promised himself that he'd try to get more sleep because there was no way he was letting one more thing go by him unnoticed.

L had never realized how beautiful a person could be. He'd always thought of humans as aggressive, arrogant creatures.

All had the insight to be aware of the power they held due to their evolutionary advantages, some were gifted enough to know how to bend it to their will, but only a very small handful were truly brilliant enough to make good use of it.

With everything he'd witnessed in his short life, he'd become discouraged, afraid that there was nothing good in the world anymore. So many times, he'd wondered what he was doing with his life. Why should he help /them/? He'd never be enough to erase the ugliness of the world. Justice was power, but nothing when compared to the evil he'd seen in the faces of the criminals he'd put away. It had gotten to the point where he'd had to close his eyes, and keep them closed to make it through the day, to convince himself that he did, in fact, have a legitimate purpose.

Once a year - every October thirty-first - he'd gather the courage to open them once more, to survey his surroundings, hoping against hope that /something/ had changed, and every time, what he saw was worse than before. After thirteen years, he'd almost given up. He'd told himself, 'One more chance', and was fully prepared to close them for what he'd decided would be the /last/ time, should he be disappointed again.

But there was Mello, shining like the sun before a great storm. Unwavering against the darkness that would inevitably cover him someday. The boy embodied everything in the world that was still good and beautiful enough to try and salvage. He was the reason L would take the next case, if only to ensure that this new threat could not come and bury his sun under the filth of humanity. He promised himself that as long as he was still breathing, he'd be by Mello's side, if only to protect him.

They'd made him break his promise. Watari, and Roger, and the rest of the staff here at Whammy's. His /employees/ had forbid him from making any sort of contact with the only good thing in his life.

Everything would return to the way it was.

He'd have to go back to being that animated corpse with the frozen heart.

No. Unacceptable...

He forced himself to concentrate long enough to evaluate the situation.

Ok. They wanted to play games with him? That was fine. Games were something he was especially good at.

Having never really 'grown up', he still had quite the vivid imagination, which was likely the reason he'd excelled in crime solving. He could sit down and daydream up things no one else could comprehend, opening up various scenarios that were often overlooked by others. Though most people saw him as bratty, or spoiled, or childish, their opinions were ignored. His methods were both effective and efficient, and he'd expressed the thought to Watari on several occasions, that if more police officers would sit down and have a chat with their inner child once in a while, they'd get a lot more done. Then again, if law enforcement officials were /intelligent, he would be out of a job so, it was probably a good thing that more people weren't as creative as he was.

L wiped the tears from his face with his sleeve, took a deep breath and got to his feet. The first few steps toward his chair were shaky but he forced himself to steady. This was no time for weakness. He had to think, and he had to do it very quickly. Thankfully, thinking was another thing he was especially good at because there was work to be done. The stakes of this game were too high, and the odds were not in his favor but walking away was not an option. Letting them take Mello would be the same as letting them win. Letting them win was the same as losing and there was no way in hell that was going to happen.

He perched himself in front of his laptop, and with a few keystrokes, he was connected to England's police database. L typed in a name, and smiled.

He and his inner child had a lot of work to do.


	17. Watch Out, He Bites

A/N: Matt visits Mello. And Near is curious.

AlmightySponge: Thank you, thank you, thank you...

* * *

CHAPTER 17

WATCH OUT, HE BITES

The room was cheerfully sunny, every shade drawn open to allow natural light to illuminate the room. When the teenager complained that the light hurt his eyes, and the bastard who was trying to blind him better not come within ten feet of the bed or suffer the consequences, a falsely cheerful voice replied that sunlight was proven to aid in healing. Mello knew enough about natural healing techniques to know that yes, this was true, but only because sunlight made most people happy, and a pleasant mood helped the body to recover. He relayed his opinion, spicing his analysis with as many colorful words as he could come up with, adding that he wasn't in pain anyway.

He was ignored. Again. Though from where he lay he could see the nurse carefully watching him, like he might be afraid that the boy would suddenly spring from the bed, to attack, or possibly flee. This was currently impossible, seeing as how he was again /attatched/ to the bed by a single pair of handcuffs. He could have escaped from his prison, if only his regular clothes were with him. He was an expert at picking locks. Mello lifted the white sheet, seeing that he was dressed in a long nightgown, could feel his exposed back pressed against the sheet where the hospital gown flapped open, loosely tied in the usual fashion. They'd /undressed/ him. While he slept.

"You have a visitor. I've already warned him that you need rest. He has one hour." The voice attempted to be stern, though it was difficult to command authority when one cowered at the other end of the room, separted from his charge by a row of empty beds. The nurse could not be blamed. From where he lay, Mello could see the bandage wrapped around the man's hand. He recalled the last time he'd awoken, to find this man 'checking on his injuries'. He'd made the mistake of getting close, patting the boy on the head, telling him that /he/ would not hurt him, to please relax. The nurse was anything but relaxed when his patient grabbed the comforting hand, biting the spot between thumb and forefinger until several of his teeth met, then spitting blood in the face that had widened in sheer terror of the small blond.

He'd expected the visitor to be Roger, coming to pry a statement out of him, or perhaps to inform him that L had finally been arrested, was sitting in a prison cell at that very moment, awaiting death sentence for a crime he hadn't committed. Mello felt a surge of joy, despite his terrifying thoughts, when the visitor turned out to be Matt, of all people. The redhead slunk to the bed, goggles on, burrowed down to his nose in the fuzzy vest. The nurse never once pried his cautious eyes away as Matt pulled up a chair to sit near the head of the bed.

"Close the curtain."

"He told me no. Has to keep his eyes on us. Not sure who he doesn't trust." The younger boy smirked, standing to do as his best friend had instructed.

"Have you seen him?" He could still picture the detective handcuffed in the back of a police cruiser, sitting in his odd way, swearing that he'd done nothing wrong, it was a mistake. He imagined him dumped into a cell, surrounded by common criminals. If they didn't execute him, surely he'd run into the wrong person, someone he'd convicted himself, only to be beaten to death in his cell, as a suspected child molester, his pleas for help ignored. Nevermind that Mello's concerns were completely unfounded as the detective was more than capable of defending himself. The blond couldn't help but be paranoid.

"L is locked up in his room. Watari shut him in himself. Saw it with my own two eyes. He's making an awful racket in there. Think he's broken a few things."

So they hadn't pressed charges yet. They were probably waiting on his statement. Mello suddenly had a sickening thought.

"You aren't here to get a confession from me, are you? Because I swear, if you're siding with them I'll..."

"No! They asked me to talk to you yeah, actually as I was headed here. Roger stopped me, said if anyone could convince you to tell the truth, it'd be me." Roger had begged, bribed, reminded him that no action on his part would only further injure his friend, who at the time was too terrified to accuse the detective of the rape. "He didn't do it, did he?"

"I'm not sure I want to talk to you if you really don't know the answer." This was embarrassing. He wondered how many of his schoolmates knew now. The details were all wrong, but the fact that anyone might know that he'd been brought here as a rape victim, however untrue, was totally humiliating. Mello imagined the discussions, the argument over whether it was true, whether L was capable of such a thing. Most of them were afraid of the detective, but there'd always been debates on his personal life. Whether he had a girlfriend, if he'd ever even had sex, what kind of person he might be like on his days away from Wammy's, if he was really that strange and creepy, or if it was just an act. Such discussions had grown in frequency the day L had taught a class, pausing sometimes to pop a whole cherry into his mouth, spitting out the core and a perfectly knotted stem. Though L, not knowing of the sexual innuendo such an action brought, was fairly confused by the roar of whispers that had erupted throughout the room. Mello's classmates were a bunch of perverts.

"You know it looks really bad. I /know/ he's not like that. He's a little weird, but he's not a pervert. Well..." So Matt still had a bit of a problem with the idea. He couldn't imagine relating to someone that much older than him. It was ten years after all. L had finished schooling, begun a career. Their lives were at totally different points.

"L loves /me, not my body. He doesn't see me as a thirteen year old with a nice ass, he sees me as myself, someone at his intellectual level, which is difficult for either of us to find. We /talk, we debate, we /make love/." It was easy to forget his surroundings when he thought of things like this. He didn't consider how embarrassing it was to be handcuffed to a bed, dressed in a flimsy gown, covered with only a sheet. Every thought of L made him forget himself, his insecurities. His raging hormones sometimes made him forget the philosophical debates, the careful analyzations of the criminal mind, the late night plans to help change the world, but these things did mean even more than the physical. He knew that this was not a passing infatuation, but a deep connecting of two minds that were so far advanced very few understood either. No one else could possibly be a more perfect match.

"I'm sorry about my birthday. I didn't see it then. But the way you talk about him, you must really love him. Your eyes, when you talk about him..." The redhead was again feeling very foolish, having thought for even a second that he could be what the detective was.

"They won't let me explain. I just want to see him. He makes everything right."

"He's L, I know he'll figure out a way."

The curtain slid on it's track, opening as far as it could. The male nurse rested a hand on Matt's shoulder, still keeping a safe distance between himself and his patient. Mello glared, daring the man to come further.

"It's time Mello here had some rest. I'm sure he's tired. The medicine should be seeing to that." He must have heard the conversation, it had barely been a quarter of an hour before the interruption. "This conversation is definitely too exciting for him in this state."

"Can't even give me a little fucking privacy can you?" The nurse just smiled.

"Yes, see, he's already much too agitated. I'm very disappointed in you, young man. I asked you to please not mention the situation at hand. I thought you could give this poor thing a little sense of normalcy, but you did exactly the opposite. You're going to have to leave now."

The redhead was ushered out of the room, still being scolded for disobeying the nurse's requests. Mello's protests were ignored. Once again he was alone, but at least now he knew that poor L was alright, still in his room, only a moments walk from this bed, if only he could get to him.

* * *

There was no way he was /over/ Mello. The blond was just too perfect, too pretty, but the redhead knew defeat when threw him over the edge of the battlefield, landing in the sea of boiling lava, screaming no when the screen went blank. He tried not to imagine his mentor, who'd stolen the boy's affections, as a giant dinosaur, spiked tail taking his feet out from under him. He pushed the image away, wondering if Mello was right, and he should be spending more time sleeping and less time playing Mario'64.

Now the redhead was feeling selfish. His best friend was miserable, and all he could think about was how unfair life was. How he should have made the move earlier. But he'd also said that it gave him the greatest joy to see the blond happy, and damn it he hadn't been lying. This was so confusing.

As if to further complicate the afternoon, just as Matt was preparing to lay down for a short nap, a soft knock sounded on the other end of the locked door. He ignored it, of course. It couldn't be the only person worth answering for, so it didn't matter. Another knock. Then another. Each grew slightly louder until it was impossible to ignore. He groaned, wondering who the idiot was who couldn't take a hint.

"Near?" The smaller child stood there, dressed as usual, white pajamas, no shoes. He looked much younger than his twelve years. If the older boy remembered correctly, very little had changed about the rabbit's appearance for several years. Not a centimeter had been added to the five feet, though he slouched a little, his small body used to being curled up on the floor rather than standing. On the rare occasion that he did stand, Near almost always looked like he expected someone was about to hit him, knock him down. Matt supposed that this was to be expected with the way Mello often treated the youngest of the three successors to L's throne.

"May I come in?" Near had not waited for a response, simply shuffling in the room as the owner of the space stared in shock. The white haired boy had already made a place for hiimself on the floor, pulling one tiny action figure out of his shirt pocket, setting it at his feet.

"Yeah, sure man, make yourself at home." Matt must have indeed fallen asleep. He wasn't on bad terms with the boy, and in fact sometimes protected him from Mello, taking some of the aggression for himself to save the weakest of the three. Aside from this, however, the two rarely spoke, after all, he was still /best friends/ with the twelve year old's greatest rival. They also shared very different interests. "What do you want?" He asked, not intending the question to be rude in the least, only rationalizing that Near would not be visiting unless he /needed/ something, not being one for social calls.

"There is a problem which I for once can not solve." Near never made eye contact, keeping his attention on his toy. The older of the two switched on a handheld game, waiting for the albino to get to the point. "I believe Matt can help me. I would have gone to the source for my answer, but both are currently under lock and key, one of which is more likely to hit me than answer a question, however sincerely curious I may be."

"Shoot." Near looked to Matt, finally, confused. "I mean, go ahead, ask. I'll answer if I can."

"I do not enjoy admitting ignorance on any subject, but the curiosity has finally gotten the better of me. I must ask why my rival and our mentor have gotten themselves into such a mess."

"You must be the only one in the building that doesn't know what happened." Everyone was talking about it, adding their own imagined details in place of missing pieces, some closer to the truth than others. A few kids even swore that L had tried to /kill/ his partner, and that the detective was going straight to the chair without a trial, on request from Wammy himself.

"That is not what I am asking of Matt. I know that our L has been accused of committing an act of rape, Mello being the victim. I also know that justice himself would never do such a thing, no matter the circumstances. He is above the common animal." Near abandoned the toy he had been playing with, taking to twirling his hair around his finger, a nervous habit he'd had since he was a small boy. Matt had always wondered how curly the white strands would be if they weren't always wrapped around those tiny fingers.

"Yeah, duh. So what is it that you wanna ask?"

"I /want to/ ask..." Near paused, he couldn't help but correct the abuse of language. Matt seemed to either not notice, or not care, simply gesturing for the younger boy to continue. "Why have Mello and L engaged in a sexual relationship? Mello is far too young by most standards, and L should be concentrating on his work." Matt took a breath, prepared to explain the situation to Near the best he knew how. "No, wait, that is not exactly what I meant. Why does anyone engage in such a relationship? I understand the needs for procreation. I also know that many individuals engage in sexual behaviors without the intent to procreate. It seems to only cause trouble."

Both boys had seen their fair share of examples regarding the subject. Teens were often sent to counsellors, explained the dangers of sex at their tender ages. One year, when the boys were still very small, a girl had suddenly left Wammy's, all her belongings packed and sent away in the space of a few days. She returned a year later to visit Watari, holding a small child. She was offered a chance to return to the school, even after it had been her obvious decision to leave. She declined, saying that she was now more interested in raising the child than trying for a chance at world famous detective.

"Near," Matt sighed. "Sex feels good. That's it. It just does. It's like..." Matt couldn't quite think of an example that the younger boy might understand. As far as he knew, Near didn't drink, or smoke, or have an obsession with cake. He didn't play sports or video games, or even watch much television. "How do you feel when you finish one of your puzzles? Or...beat Mello at something?"

"Accomplished." Near wasn't helping. Not at all.

"How about excited? Happy? Do you feel the need to do it again? Does it make you want to get out of bed early in the morning?"

The smaller boy was quiet for a few moments, thinking, twirling his hair. "When L allows me to work on a case, especially by myself, I sometimes feel that way."

"That's it then. You understand." Matt hoped the conversation would end soon. He couldn't place it, but he felt a little strange having this conversation with /that/ boy. It was part guilt, because Mello would be livid if he saw Matt behaving in a friendly way towards Near, but mostly it was just embarrassing. He was glad Near already knew the mechanics of sex, and he hoped to any god that was listening that he'd never have children (however that would happen).

"I should thank Matt. He has always been very kind to me. Unlike his companion." This was true. The redhead was always put off by the twelve year old's cold apathy, but when Mello would stuff him in his locker, or push him down, pulling his hair, Matt saw a different side of the child. Near was frightened of Mello. He stood up to him, being as strong willed as their mentor, but he was a very weak child. He bruised easily, he was always sick. So when his blond friend wasn't looking, Matt would help his victim stand back up, gather his things.

"I would like to ask one more question of Matt." The thirteen year old shrugged. "How does one know when it is a proper time to act on such feelings?"

"I don't know. I guess you just do. You go for it and either it happens, or you get burned."

Near was smiling, if you could call it that. It was more smirking, except for when you noticed his eyes. The usually lifeless blackness shone, it meant Near was planning something. He slowly picked himself up off the floor, shuffled across the room to where Matt was sitting on the bed. When they were face to face, the younger boy's smile melted away. He looked somewhat nervous, then shrugged his shoulders in what Matt supposed was Near's way of saying 'what the hell', before he planted a quick, close-mouthed kiss on the redhead's lips.

"Wha-"

"My actions seem to have not caused either of us to be set aflame."

Had that been sarcasm on Near's part? Better yet, had Near just kissed him? The boy in question was already gone before a very shocked Matt could ask. He wanted to run to his best friend, then broke into laughter when he thought about it. Mello's face would be priceless, but the consequences would most certainly be dire. Especially if he offered insight into what he was currently feeling. He had enjoyed that, hadn't he?

Nah.

* * *

...Matt and...Near? Huh? You don't supposed they'll...Nah...Right?


	18. Is That Clear Enough For You?

A/N: In which L does what he does best, and we find out a lot more about Roger than we ever wanted to know.

Ls.potential.rapist, AlmightySponge, and anonymous, I'm glad you liked the development with MattxNear. I couldn't stand for our poor Matt to be lonely anymore. And Near is just such a cute little bunny, isn't he?

And now...for L's plan to go into action. Drum Roll

* * *

CHAPTER 18

IS THAT CLEAR ENOUGH FOR YOU?

Watari raised one bushy grey eyebrow as he scanned the file in front of him, occasionally glancing up at his colleague. He had to admit that this was rather...impressive. Roger had been quite the delinquent in his younger years if the (surprisingly lengthy) case file L had prepared over the last forty-eight hours said anything. When he got to the end of the page, he actually had to stifle a laugh and cover his mouth with his hand to hide his smile. He took a moment to pull himself together, then laid the folder out in front of him, hands clasped over the cover and looked to his friend who was staring at him in bewilderment.

"Well? What is it?" The other man asked impatiently, and Watari nearly lost it again but managed to mask it by clearing his throat.

"It is your entire criminal record, starting with your first offense at the age of thirteen. It says here that you were caught shoplifting a candy bar from a shop in London. Tell me, my dear friend, did you really get arrested for swimming in the park fountain in the nude?"

The look on Roger's face was absolutely priceless. In any other situation, Watari thought he might have enjoyed this. It always gave him a sick sort of pleasure to see his best and oldest friend become so easily flustered. Dear lord, he'd been spending too much time in L's company again...

Watari handed over the folder and Roger's eyes widened as he skimmed over the pages. "You must be joking," The man finally sputtered. Watari shook his head.

"As you can see, I am quite serious Roger. It seems that L has spent the last two days holed up in his bedroom building a case against you. What he hopes to achieve, I'm not sure but, if I know the boy as well as I think I do, he'll be in shortly to explain himself. In great detail, I imagine."

Roger threw up his hands in sheer exasperation. "What is /_wrong/_with that man?!" Watari began to reply but before he could get out so much as a single syllable, the man in question shuffled into the room unannounced. He was standing straighter, looking more tired and disheveled than the old man had ever seen him and the sight nearly broke Watari's heart. "What are /you/ doing here? And don't you /ever/ knock?" Roger huffed.

L raised an eyebrow but was otherwise unaffected.

"I have never knocked before, what makes you think I would knock now?" he replied. "And considering that I own this building, single-handedly finance this orphanage, as well as pay your salary, I don't see why I should have to."

"You arrogant little - " Roger began to get to his feet but L held up a hand to stop him.

"No need to get up, Mr. Ruvie. I wont be staying long." Roger settled back into his chair, not liking being ordered around by a twenty-three year old /child/ one bit but he wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. L looked between the two old men. "I assume you read the file?" he asked. Watari nodded.

"Yes, it was quite...throrough, L." If one were listening closely enough, they could have almost detected just a tiny hint of pride in the old man's voice. No one could ever accuse L of not being good as what he does. Roger, on the other hand was not amused.

"Yes, L. Quite thorough indeed! Just where the hell did you get all of that anyway?"

"There is no need to curse, Roger. And I'm afraid I can not reveal my sources. That information is classified. Now, I suppose the two of you are wondering what I'm getting at with all of this, Yes?" He didn't bother to wait for a response. "I thought you might be. Roger, Mello is currently in your legal custody, is he not?"

"I don't see what that has to do with - "

"Mr. Ruvie, please answer the question. Mello is under your care. You are his legal guardian, correct?"

Roger sighed. Might as well humor the little brat until he could get him out of his sight for good. "Yes, Mello is my charge. Along with all of the other children here at Whammy's." L nodded.

"I see. And have you read over the case file that I've prepared. I'm confident that it is quite accurate, would you not agree?"

"I'll admit that it is true but it was a very long time ago and - "

"That's enough," L said, silencing the man with a wave of his hand. "The list of your previous offenses include, public intoxication, breaking and entering, shoplifting, resisting arrest, grand theft auto, as well as..." The detective paused, allowing himself a tiny smile. "Indecent exposure. And that's just the short list. I could go on but I fear we might be here all night. Quite the trouble-maker in your time, weren't you, Roger?"

"You know damn well that the circumstances in all of those situations were explained thoroughly, and - "

"Ah, yes. But do you think a judge will see the difference, especially when the case is being presented by L, the greatest detective in the world? Come now, Roger. I think we both know they'll believe every word I say, no matter how ridiculous. Whether it is the truth or not, makes absolutely no difference. For example, I could tell them today that it was really you who murdered John F. Kennedy, and they'd take it 'for the gospel truth', as Mello would say."

Roger's jaw dropped open, eyes wide. "Are you actually threatening me?"

L nibbled on the pad of his thumb for a moment, seemingly thinking it over, then smiled. "Yes, I believe I am."

Watari took one look at Roger and decided it was probably a good time to intervene. "And just what will you be charging Roger with, L?"

"Neglect. Child endangerment, defamation of character, etc, etc, etc... As well as a few other things but, the point is that by this time next week, Mello will no longer under your care, and released into my custody on the grounds that you are unfit to remain his guardian."

"Neglect? Child endangerment? On /what/ grounds? You try to bring this to court and I'll expose you for the pervert you are!"

"Prove it."

"W-what?!"

"You heard me. You are old, Mr. Ruvie, but not deaf. Every case needs evidence, and so shall you if you wish to prove that I molested the boy, keeping in mind that it will be your word against mine, and that it is also highly unlikely that Mello will testify to your story. After that, you can explain where you were when this alleged abuse was taking place. What exactly were you doing when a child under your care was being attacked? We have been romantically involved since the second of November. It is now the seventeeth of April. Where have you been?! Tell me Roger, what do you think your blood alcohol content is at this very moment? You've been under quite a bit of stress...Do you think you'd be able to pass a breathalyzer test were I to administer one? The fact of the matter is that you neglected to pay more attention to your charge than to your whiskey, and therefore put him in danger. There. Neglect and child endangerment. I will charge you on /those/ grounds, Mr. Ruvie. As for defamation of character, I'll bring that up when I'm undoubtably proven innocent. Honestly, accusing the world's three top detectives of such a vicious crime? Preposterous."

"L, don't you think this is all just a bit - "

"Mr. Whammy, please refrain from speaking at this time."

The silence in the room was deafening. Both Roger and Watari just stared at him, completely, and utterly shocked. Watari knew the boy was angry, and he did have a tendency to over react when he didn't get his way but this...this was taking it to a whole new level. And did he actually just tell him, the closest thing to a father he'd ever had, to /shut up/?

"Well, now. I see I have your complete, undivided attention, yes? Good. Because I'm only going to say this once so you'd better pay attention. This could all get very messy, very quickly, and for Mello's sake, I hope you will both agree to stop this foolishness immediately. You can either accept my terms, or decline and Mello and I will be on the next flight to the nearest country without an extradition treaty, if only on the /slim/ chance that the courts decide to take the words of a senile old man and an angry, neglectful drunk over mine. Unlikely. Then, the next time Interpol has a crisis, you two fine gentlemen can handle it yourselves. With your history of being so incredibly perceptive, I think you'll both make excellent detectives." L placed his palms flat on the desk and leaned closer, dropping his voice just a bit into a more threatening tone. This was the most emotion either man had seen the detective display in years. "Mello and I are deeply in love. Whether you choose to acknowledge that fact or not, our feelings will remain. I'm warning you /both/ that I intend to see this through to the very end, and by the time we're done, I /will/ get what I want, one way or another, by /any/ means necessary. It is up to you to decide my methods, and just how much Mello's emotional stability has to suffer - if he isn't already scarred enough. Honestly, Roger. I had not seen Mello's files until a few days ago but I'm certain you have known of his past for a very long time. What in your right mind told you it was a good idea to allow several men to forcibly restrain a very confused, very frightened boy with a history of sexual abuse to his bed?" The longer he went, the angrier he got.

Roger looked away, unable to think of a way to explain. Now that he thought about it, it did seem rather...stupid. "I - "

That did it...

"You screwed up! And I /refuse/ to stand here and let you get away with it! I don't give a damn what you think of me, I know we haven't exactly seen eye-to-eye over the years, but you've brought Mello into this and that I can not allow." He narrowed his eyes and leaned just a bit closer to the old man. "I'm warning you here and now that if there is so much as a /_scratch/ _anywhere on my lover's body, I wont need to bring you to court because I'll kill you right here with my bare hands. If you are wondering whether or not I am threatening you this time, I assure you, am not. I am making you a promise. Do I make myself perfectly clear, Mr. Ruvie?"

"L..." Watari tried but trailed off when the detective fixed him with a fierce glare.

"Didn't I just tell /_you_/ to be quiet, Mr. Whammy? As of this moment, you and I are no longer on pleasant speaking terms." L sighed, his features softening slightly. He looked...sad. "Watari...I thought that as the man who raised me, you, of all people, would know me better than this. You honestly think so little of me as to suggest that I would..." L trailed of, replacing the sadness with his usual blank expression. "Never mind." L righted himself and turned to go, stopping momentarily at the door to get in the final word. "I am very disappointed in the both of you. When you decide you are ready to apologize, not only to myself but to Mello as well, I will be in my bedroom, and he will be with me. Where he /belongs/. Good day to you, gentlemen."

Watari and Roger stared at each other for a very long time after L had left, not knowing what to say and feeling just a tiny bit foolish. Well, more /_ashamed_/ than foolish on Watari's part.

L was right. He'd raised the boy himself from the age of three, treated him like he was his own son. He'd watched him grow into a fine - if a little eccentric - young man.When it came to his work, L was ruthless, methodical, stopping at nothing to bring criminals to justice where they could receive the maximum punishment they deserved. But when they were alone, and he could just be Lawliet, not the great L - either respected or feared world wide, depending on which side of the law you ran - he was really quite gentle. He had always been wonderful with the children, playing with them, teaching them. Now that he sat back and gave it some thought, Watari couldn't believe he'd considered for even a moment that his child was capable of committing such a disgusting act. He was about to speak when he noticed a sheet of paper on Roger's desk.

This week's test scores...

Mello was seven points ahead of Near.

Watari shuffled through more papers, found the scores from the previous weeks. In October, Mello had been 3 points behind which meant that since the beginning of his relationship with L, he'd been far more successful in his studies. He was showing his true potential. Roger leaned over to look at the papers too.

"Roger, have you seen these test scores? Mello is ahead." Roger nodded.

"Yes, well it does happen occasionally when he works hard enough."

"I know that but, if you look back into the records, you'll see his grades have been steadily rising since the first week on November. And now that I think of it, Mello has seemed so much calmer. Less destructive than usual." Roger pondered this for a moment.

"Last week, Ms. Stanley mentioned something unusual. When she was making her rounds, she saw one of the younger boys running down the hall. Before she could ask him to stop, he'd run into Mello, knocking them both to the ground. Initially, she assumed that she'd have to break up a fight and turned to go ask another teacher for assistance but Mello did something very strange. Instead of screaming profanities and hitting the other boy like he normally would, he asked him if he was okay, and helped him gather up his things..."

After a long moment of consideration, Watari turned to his friend. "Roger, I believe we may have made a grave error. Wouldn't you agree?" Roger nodded once. "Well, then, I suppose we'd better get started on that apology, shall we? I suspect that L will want it in writing as well."

"Indeed." As the two men settled down to write, something was still bothering Roger. "Quillish, do you really think that L would have gone through with all of that legal nonsense he was talking about?"

Watari laughed. "Oh, yes. Most certainly," he said. "He would have taken you to court and argued his case until they agreed to bring back burning someone at the stake as capital punishment. You would not have stood a chance, my dear friend."

Roger nodded, dipped his pen into its inkwell, and began to write the /sincerest/ apology he'd ever given.

* * *

A/N

There are about six chapters left! There's a poll on my profile regarding the sequel to this story. I've begun working on it already but I'd like to know how many of you would read it before I get too serious. Please take a moment to vote. Much appreciated.

-Nakeeya


	19. Be StillSailboat On A Windless Day

A/N: Sorry this took so long to post. I had it written already but I was so busy this weekend...

Mello remembers.

WARNING: Mentions of child abuse and incest.

Deko-Chesuki-INCEST: I'm so glad you enjoy it. I wanted to show a different side of L, I wanted you to be able to see him come unglued for once because everybody has their breaking point and he's no different...As for the lemon, nothing too dirty is planned fort the end of this one but, you'll get plenty of all that in the sequel. Trust me...

AlmightSponge: I figured everyone would enjoy seeing L put that incredible mind of his to work. No one ever shows him really doing any kind of detective work...

Arnold The Pygmy Puff: I love stalkers...

Fallenangelofaworldunknown: I'm glad they were in character, L is so much fun to write, and Roger's such a stuffy bastard...Btw, practice safe coloring. xoxo.

Ls.potential.rapist.: I don't think I'll ever get over how much I love your screen name...Awesomeness? Damn, How am I gonna live up to that? I hope I don't fuck up...

gaarakatsuki: I'm writing, I'm writing! I'm glad you like it so much. I aim to please.

* * *

CHAPTER 19

BE STILL/SAILBOAT ON A WINDLESS DAY

After leaving Roger's office, L was feeling rather pleased with himself. Too bad he didn't know that on his way to see his lover for the first time in days, a storm was brewing and was about to turn into a full on natural disaster...

"Mello, can I get you anything? Water? Are you hungry?" The man asked, sitting down in the chair next to his bed. "By the way, I'm Doctor Knight." The doctor held out his hand with a smile. Mello just glared at him until he drew back and took out his little notebook. He'd have walked out right there if it had been any other time but since he'd been so 'disorderly', they'd deemed it necessary to keep one of his wrists cuffed to the bed at all times. Like a common fucking criminal. And this was his interrogation. Just fucking lovely.

A psychiatrist, Roger had said. To help him 'sort out his head' so he could 'move on from this whole mess'. What. A crock. Of shit. There was nothing to sort out, his head was in perfect working order. It was /their heads/ he was worried about. What the hell did they mean, /'move on'/? Were they seriously going to separate them? For good? Mello closed his eyes and bit down on his lip hard, wincing slightly at the taste of copper on his tongue. No, that wasn't possible. They /couldn't/ do that to him...Could they?

"Mello, what are you thinking about?" Dr. Knight asked. Another glare but the man didn't seem at all phased. He must deal with troubled teenagers a lot. That didn't mean shit. He could have all the experience in the world, he hadn't dealt with Mello yet. The blond wondered if the poor man knew what he'd gotten himself into? Had anyone even bothered to warn him? "Mello, are you going to answer me?" More silence. The man sighed. "That's fine. We have all day. You just start talking when you're ready..."

"Fuck you."

Instead of chastising him for his language, the doctor smiled. "That's better," he said. "You can say whatever you want in here, and no one will get you into trouble, I promise. Everything you tell me will be our little secret." Mello glared but the man just kept right on smiling.

"What the fuck do you want from me?"

"I don't want anything from you, Mello. I want to help you help yourself. Is that okay?" Mello rolled his eyes. Didn't this moron know that basic psychology was part of the required curriculum here at Whammy's? And Mello was in his third year.

"And just how the hell do you think you're gonna do that?"

Dr. Knight took a chocolate bar out of his bag, held it out to the blond. "Here, I know its your favorite." Mello smiled and took the candy from him but as soon as the man had settled back into his chair, the boy threw it across the room.

"I don't want /anything/ from you," he growled. Anyone else would be inimidated. The doctor just seemed...amused.

"That's fine too. I just thought it might help. Having the things that comfort us sometimes helps when we talk about these kinds of things..."

"What things?"

"Things like what your mentor has been doing to you."

Mello lunged at the doctor, jerking the handcuff around his wrist so hard that it moved the bed at least a half an inch along the floor, "Fuck you!" he screamed, spitting in the man's face. Dr. Knight didn't even flinch, just took out a tissue to clean himself off before trying again. Persistent motherfucker.

"Mello, I already told you. Nothing you say here will be repeated to anyone you don't want to hear. If you talk to me about the things he's been doing to you, I can see to it that it never happens again. And he'll never be able to punish you for it."

"You sick, twisted, son of a bitch," the blond seethed. The cuff was still pulled tight, metal digging into his skin. He knew there would be blood soon but didn't care. "How dare you? How /dare/ you talk about him like that? He hasn't done /anything/ to me!"

"You're caregiver has told me a different story, as well as many other witnesses. I know you feel like you have to lie for him, maybe he threatened to hurt you? It doesn't matter, Mello. As long as you tell us, he - "

"He's not fucking hurting me! He /loves/ me!"

"Mello, please listen - "

"No, shut the fuck up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!" he screamed over and over but Dr. Knight kept going, in that calm textbook tone.

"What he does to you is not love. I know this is all very hard for you to understand, or maybe you feel ashamed that you fell for his tricks, and the things he forced you to do but given your history, you were more susceptible to his power. He may have known, and used that against you - "

Mello stopped, "Wait, what?" he asked.

"I was saying that L may have used the information in your file to make you more - "

"No, you moron. My history. /What/ information in my file? What the fuck are you talking about?" The man didn't acknowledge the insult.

"The sexual abuse you suffered as a child."

Mello actually laughed. "Is that what all this is about? You think that since L and I are together, that I was molested when I was a kid? Wow, you guys are really reaching..."

"No, Mello. I think that L used the knowledge that you had been sexually abused in order to make you more compliant to his will."

"You've got it all wrong, doc. I wasn't abused."

"Yes, Mello, you were," the doctor said.

"Okay, I was kind of amused by your juvenile psychological generalization at first but, now its getting old. I don't know about all your other patients but, I'm too smart for you to convince me that things happened when they didn't just so you can get me to say what everyone wants to hear."

"Mello, you're the one who's got it all wrong. You /were/ sexually abused as a child. Its all in your file but it seems you've repressed your memories to protect yourself."

"I'm not /repressing/ anything!" Dr. Knight reached into his bag again and took out a folder. Scrawled across the cover in messy cursive was his name. His /real/ name. Mihael Keehl. "Where the hell did you get that?"

"Roger gave it to me to look over so I could make a proper diagnosis. Its your records from your life before you came to Whammy's." He laid it on the bed beside Mello's thigh. "I'll leave you alone for a moment so you can look it over. I think there are some things you've forgotten, or forced yourself to forget that are better /remembered/."

After the doctor had gone, Mello grabbed the folder, laid it out over his lap, determined to prove the man wrong. He'd made a mistake, that was all. He'd gotten someone else's file mixed up with Mello's but he'd set it right and then set them right about L too.

The first page was his birth certificate, telling him that Milena Keehl (Maiden name: Ivonivic, age 17) had given birth to a boy, Mihael Ilija Keehl, at 7:32PM on December 13th, 1989. Weight at time of birth: 6lbs, 7 oz. Place of birth: Dr. Mladen Stojanović Hospital in Zagreb, Croatia (Yugoslavia at the time). Father's name: Aleksander Keehl (age 25). All of these things, he knew. So far, nothing out of the ordinary.

Clipped to the corner of his birth certificate were four faded photographs. The first was of his mother holding him for the first time in the hospital. The second, of his parents on their wedding day. In the third he looked to be about two, his mother holding him while the three posed in front of their home. In the last photo, only he and his father stood in front of the camera. Mello had been five, his mother had died the year before. From what, he wasn't sure, he could only remember the sadness that he and his father had felt for her loss.

Mello didn't even realize he was crying until he tasted saltwater on his lips but immediately wiped the tears away. It was pointless. If tears were the price of bringing someone back from the dead, he'd paid in full several times over.

Next were the documents signed by Mr. Qullish Whammy and Mr. Roger Ruvie that released Mello into their custody.

He flipped through the next several pages, finding nothing of importance, until...he found an police investigation report written in Croatian. Another from the police there in England. He began to read through both, eyes widening as he went along.

No. This wasn't possible. His father would never have...No, no, no, no, no. This couldn't be right. There had to be some sort of mistake.

But the medical reports were telling a different story.

_/Mihael Keehl, age 5. Arrived with numerous cuts and heavy bruising. Internal bleeding. Severe internal lacerations_ _and scarring. Treated for infection with antibiotics. Samples of blood and semen were taken from the child's body and clothing to be sent for processing. Child is fearful of physical contact and prone to violence when approached, especially with the male staff. Signs of prolonged sexual abuse./_

Pictures had been taken of him in the hospital of the bruises and cuts all over his naked body.

A copy of a lab test result showing that the sample of semen taken from his body, and one taken from his father were an exact match.

There were evaluations from several psychologists.

Then another police report, this time for the arrest of his father. Mug shots (had his father always looked so /evil/?). Interrogation transcripts...a written confession to the things he'd done to his son. A side note in the margin detailed that _/Aleksander Keehl often smiled or seemed pleased with himself as he described in disturbing detail, several accounts of the abuse/._

There were transcripts of the trial. His father had been found guilty on all charges and sentenced to 30 years in prison but was murdered by his cell mate after only 7. Mello had been told that his father was killed in a car accident. He'd been alive all that time? They'd /lied/ to him...

Tears ran down Mello's cheeks but he was too stunned to brush them away, or even notice them at all, for that matter. He shook his head. No. This wasn't right. His daddy /loved/ him. His daddy took care of him, and played with him, and read him bedtime stories...If this was true, then why didn't he remember -

His eyes caught something in one of the psychiatric evaluations_. /"After several months, Mihael began to show signs of amnesia for the memories of his abuse. It is unlikely that he will regain them. No further therapy should be needed."/ _

But as he read the words, he /did/ remember. He remembered everything. He remembered the pain, the fear he felt every night when his father would come into his bedroom to, 'kiss him goodnight'. He remembered the shame he felt afterward. He remembered the anger he felt towards his father for what he'd done to him. He remembered the anger he felt toward himself for letting it happen.

His daddy didn't love him. His daddy loved to /fuck/ him.

All of the emotions, the memories, the pain came flooding back at once, hitting him like a tsunami. He suddenly couldn't breathe, the room began to spin around him. He was dizzy and scared and confused and he felt like the walls were closing in on him. He had to get away so he yanked on the cuff around his wrist but it didn't budge. He tried again. Nothing happened, and he started to panic, jerking his arm back and forth until he could feel something warm and wet and sticky on his hand but he didn't care because he wasn't in the infirmary at Whammy's anymore. He was five years old again, tied crucifixion style to his bed. The ropes were digging into his wrists and there was blood everywhere. His father was making him say Hail Mary's while he raped him.

And he screamed. Or at least he would have if he could have drawn enough breath into his lungs to be capable of such an action. Then the room was spinning again and there were people everywhere, voices, male and female, but he couldn't understand what they were saying. He had. To get. Away.

Then one very familiar voice broke through the chaos loud and clear. There were warm gentle arms around him, holding him. His eyes focused on pale skin, scared blue-grey eyes, wild black hair.

Oh. It was L. L was holding him. L was here now, he was safe.

"Mello, be still now. I've got you. Please be still." L's voice was calm and soothing as ever, and Mello smiled, allowing himself to relax in his lover's arms. "You can sleep now, love. I promise not to let go..."

So Mello closed his eyes, and let the world slip away.

* * *

L was angry. No, L was positively /furious/ as he paced back and forth before the hospital staff, ranting and raving over their incompetence as medical professionals. They could do nothing but stare back at him, absolutely terrified. It was a good thing that the psychiatrist wasn't present or he might have killed him. As he went on, Watari stood back, making a mental check list of all the curse words in the English language. His child had managed to fit nearly all of them into his little tirade.

"I fucking /told/ you - no, /ordered/ you not to put him into those restraints again and you /deliberately/ disobeyed! If you are so ignorant that you can not follow a simple instruction, I have no other option than to terminate your employment at this institution!"

"What?!" one of the doctors cried.

"You're fired! All of you! Get the hell out of my sight before I have you forcibly removed from the premises!"

One of the male nurses actually had the gall to step forward and protest. "Now, you wait just a minute. We all know what you did to that boy in there. If you fire us, we'll go to the police."

"Go ahead! I'm L! I /am/ the police! If you'd like to file a report against me, by all means, go ahead. Watari, why don't you take this nice gentleman to your office. I believe he has a complaint. Tell him that I'll be sure to get back to him with my findings when I'm finished investigating myself."

"You /raped/ that child and I for one will not allow you - "

No one will ever know how that sentence was supposed to end because when that man hit the ground, he couldn't remember what his name was, let alone what he was going to say.

"I did not rape him! I would never, ever do anything of the sort! I /love/ him! I /adore/ him! And if one more of you bastards try to accuse me of committing such a despicable act, I swear on everything that my lover finds holy, you will regret it!"

Before he left, L turned to Watari. "Give these people their severance pay, then escort from the building. If I come back in here and they have not left, I will be very, very cross."

* * *

When Mello woke up, he found himself curled up against L's side, his head on his shoulder, right over the older man's heart. The detective's arm was wrapped tight around him, his right hand stroking Mello's soft blond hair. The boy pressed his face into L's soft white shirt, breathed in his sweet scent - a mixture of strawberries, frosting, and English tea. He decided that he'd never felt so safe in his whole life.

"You're awake," L said. Mello nodded. "Do you still want me to hold you, or would you be more comfortable with me in the chair next to the bed?" The blonde pushed himself closer, wrapping his leg around both of L's. The detective kissed the top of his head and held him a little tighter. "As you wish. But if at any point you want me to leave, just say the words and I will."

"Why would I want you to leave?"

"I wasn't sure if you'd want to be in contact with another man after what you read in your files."

"You're not just another man. You love me. You wont hurt me. I know that. Please don't leave me." Mello noticed that his left wrist had been covered with a cast. "What happened?"

"You broke your wrist when you became hysterical. If I'd known they'd restrained you again, I would have - "

Mello lifted himself enough to silence L with a kiss. He smiled. "I know."

"They've been removed from the building. I will not allow anyone to hurt you again. I promise."

Mello kissed him again. "L?"

"Yes?"

"I know."

They were silent for a long time, just listening to each other breathe. L didn't know what to do, what he could say to make everything alright again so, as always, he settled on the first thing that came to his mind. "Albert Einstein once said that he liked to take his sailboat out on the water on a windless day because he liked the challenge..."

Mello raised his head from L's chest to look at the older man, one eyebrow quirked. "L. Sometimes, I think that you might be stark raving mad." L just laughed.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't stand the silence and I didn't know what else to say." The detective brought his hand to his mouth and began to nibble on the pad of his thumb but Mello pulled it away and kissed the spot.

"No. It was perfect." He kissed L's lips, then lay back down, closing his eyes.

"Mello?"

"Hmm?"

"I think trying to sail a boat on a windless day is a challenge that I would like you and I to take on together."

Mello kissed L's chest through the white cotton shirt, right over his heart. "I love you, L."

"I love you more."

"Don't start..."

* * *

A/N: I did some research and the name Mihael (Michael in English) is of Croatian descent so the names I chose for Mello's middle name (Ilija, the Crotian form of the Hebrew name, Elijah, which means 'The Lord is my god'), Mello's father's name (Aleksander), and Mello's mother's name (Milena Ivonovic), are all Croatian as well. Also, Dr. Mladen Stojanović Hospital (Now known as Sisters of Charity Hospital but not until 1992) is an actual hospital, one of the oldest in eastern Europe, in Zagreb, Croatia.


	20. Didn't That Hurt?

A/N:

Months have passed. We're into July/August...somewhere around there.

L acts very immature.

Mello's losing it and L has no idea what to do.

WARNING: Mentions of self harm.

syrupdrip: I'm glad you stuck with it and that you're enjoying it now! I know we started off pretty slow but I didn't want to just jump right into the angst. I get why you're saying their relationship would be awkward but I wanted a challenge. I wanted to see if I could write something different that people would still enjoy.

mariposa sabrosa: I love that line...and I love you too :)

Ls.potential.rapist: L's a brat but he's a cute brat...

THANK YOU!

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CHAPTER 20

DIDN'T THAT HURT?

Mello had insisted he was fine but as time passed, L became more and more aware that, no, Mello was most certainly not fine. Something was terribly wrong with his lover and it hurt to have to see him this way.

The nightmares began not too long after the incident in the infirmary. Mello would be screaming, and crying, thrashing about on the bed, clawing to get away from L when the detective tried to comfort him. Every time the man woke his lover from a dream, it was taking the blond longer and longer to recognize that he was, in fact, L. The man who loved him, and would never, ever do anything to cause him harm.

His sexual behaviors had become increasingly disturbing. He would be fine one moment, then turn violent then next. He began begging L to hurt him and when the older man refused, he would attempt to hurt himself by pulling his own hair, biting hard enough to break the skin, pushing the detective down and trying to use his body as a weapon like what he'd done on his birthday. He would ask L to degrade him by taking him from behind, calling him names like 'bitch', and 'slut'. He would use crude language, telling the detective to 'fuck him like a whore'. He became angrier and angrier every time the older man refused to treat him in such a disgusting manner. Mello could tell him he liked it that way as much as he wanted. L knew he was lying and he was not fool enough to fall for it.

His mental and physical health were steadily deteriorating. He was withdrawn, depressed. His self esteem was suffering. He'd sit in front of a mirror for hours, then complain about how ugly he was, asking L how he could ever want to look at him, let alone make love with him. He started drinking, cutting himself, burning himself. He was becoming thinner and thinner, alomst dangerously so. He'd lie to the detective, saying he was eating even though it was clear that he was not. And every time L would ask him about it, try to get him to talk (he knew better than to suggest therapy for the boy), Mello would change the subject or ignore him all together. His self destructive behaviors would become worse until the detective gave up the fight.

Even his school work was suffering. He'd fallen behind Near again, almost into third. But most puzzling of all, when Roger called him into his office to discuss the matter, he didn't seem to care.

L knew that he had better come up with a solution soon before it was too late because he was /not/ going to lose Mello to this. He'd been given a taste of heaven and he refused to let him go, he'd never make it without him.

But tonight, things had been blissfully peaceful. Almost normal. The detective wasn't sure how long it would last but he was going to make the most of it while it did. Maybe if he made an extra effort to treat him more kindly than usual, his lover would snap out of it. L reasoned that the chances of that happening were less than twelve percent but that was enough to give him hope.

L sat on the bed with his back pressed against the headboard, Mello sprawled comfortably against his chest with the blanket pulled up to his chin. L was reading to him from a case file - some serial killer in Manchester - but as interesting as it was, the boy was much too distracted by the long spidery fingers combing through his hair to pay attention.

"Mello, are you even listening to me?" Apparently, the detective had noticed as well.

"Mm hmm..." When L stopped moving his hand Mello shot him a glare. "L..." he whined.

"If I'm boring you, I could always go read elsewhere," the detective suggested but as soon as he made to move, Mello nipped hard at the side of his neck. L laughed. "Okay, okay, point taken. Duely noted..."

"Keep reading to me."

"But you weren't paying attention," L argued. Mello, kissed the spot he'd bitten, then gave it an experimental lick, loving the soft sigh it produced. He kept going, kissing, licking, sucking, nipping at the soft pale skin until L dropped the file he was holding and gripped the sheet beside him. "Mmm-Mello.."

The blonde sat up and turned himself around until he was straddling L's thighs, arms around the older man's neck. As soon as he'd gotten comfortable in the detective's lap, L's mouth was on his, kissing him like there was no tomorrow. His hands instinctively found the blonde's hips and pulled him closer. Mello broke away for air, then began kissing a trail along the detective's jaw, down the side of his neck, to his collar bones and bit down, causing the older man to make this sound, a low moan at the back of his throat, that the blonde always felt more than heard. He nipped again and recieved the same reaction but when he began sucking on the abused flesh, L's hips pushed up against his own, the hands still holding him firmly in place. Mello pulled back to admire the mark he'd left. He'd be scolded for it in the morning but he loved the way it looked. It was like a little warning sign. "Mello's Property. Back the Fuck Off." That had such a nice ring to it so, he did it again. And again, leaving little purple bruises in his wake as he moved onto the next bit of exposed flesh. It wasn't long until he had L writhing beneath him.

He tightened his grip on Mello and lifted up his hips again while at the same time, pushing the blonde down into his lap. He did it again and moaned, biting down on his lip as his head fell back against the headboard with a dull thud. Mello giggled, pulling away from the detective's neck to look at him. "Didn't that hurt?" he asked, reaching around to rub the spot.

"Mmm...huh?"

"Your head, moron, doesn't it hurt?"

L stopped for a moment and cracked open one eye, unsuccessfully holding back a smile. For a moment, Mello just stared at his boyfriend like the man had gone mad, then rolled his eyes as he realized that what he'd said could have an entirely different meaning. "God, L! You're so immature!" he yelled, slapping the older man's arm. L just laughed. "Seriously, you are...now take your damn shirt off." He reached for the hem of the baggy white shirt and tugged.

L obediently lifted his arms, though he was still fighting to maintain his composure...At least until Mello leaned back and slowly stripped out of his own, revealing all of that tantalizing golden skin, one agonizing inch at a time. In the time it took for the garment to leave Mello's hand and drop to the floor, L had both of his hands in the boy's blonde hair and was forcing their lips together. The kiss was wet, and rough, their teeth clicking together once or twice as tongues battled for dominance. Eventually, Mello was the one to give in, letting L have control but showed his displeasure by dragging his nails down the older man's chest.

It wasn't long before L's was gripping his hips again, showing him how to move exactly the way he wanted him to. After a few moments, Mello placed his hands on L's shoulders, and started to move on his own, up and down in a parody of what was to come. L leaned forward, breathing hard, heart racing in his chest, and rested his head on the blonde's shoulder. Pale hands slid from hips up over a sweat slicked back, one disappearing into the boy's hair, guiding his head down close enough for L to catch his lips in a kiss.

"L...Please..." Mello whimpered, and just by the tone used, L knew his lover was already on the edge. 'Thank God', L thought. It had been increasingly difficult for the blond to get an erection, let alone orgasm.

The detective prepared his lover quickly but thoroughly, then slid inside, causing them both to moan. As he started to move, Mello's arms came up to wrap aroud his neck, his legs around his hips. "Mello, love, do you know how beautiful you are?"

L murmered. Mello didn't answer, only kissed the detective, after a moment, pulling back slightly and biting down hard on L's lower lip. The older man stopped abruptly with the sharp pain, the taste of copper on his tongue. He brought his hand to his mouth, only to have his fingers come back slicked with blood. Mello scowled up at him.

"God gamn it, L! Why did you stop?" he whined.

"Mello, why would you do that? It hurt."

The blond rolled his eyes. "Jesus Christ. I'm sorry, ok? Now hurry up and fuck me." L shook his head and sat up, carefully disentangling himself with his lover. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" L stood, located his boxers and pulled them back on. He was no longer aroused, far too uncomfortable with the situation to continue. Mello sat up. "Where are you going? Get back here and finish what you started!" L dragged his fingers through the knots in his messy hair, still shaking his head.

"No."

"What?!" Mello demanded.

"I said no!" L shouted back. Mello's eyes widened and he closed his mouth, shocked at his lover's unusually harsh tone. "I have told you time and time again, Mello, that I will not /fuck/ you under any circumstances and my stance on the matter has not changed, nor will it ever!" After a moment of tense silence Mello was off the bed and dropping to his knees in front of the older man, his hands going for the waistband of his boxers. L grabbed both of his wrists and jerked his hands away. "Just what the /hell/ do you think you're doing?"

Mello began to tremble and when he looked up, there were tears streaming down his face. "Please, L! Please, dear God, don't leave me! I'll do anything! I promise I'll be a good boy, just please don't leave! Please love me! I know I don't deserve it but, you're all I have." L stared down at the boy, horrified as he went limp and began sobbing. Not knowing what else to do, he lowered himself to the floor, then pulled the blond into his lap and held him as he cried, pleading over and over again, "Please, L...please don't leave..."

Tears stung his own eyes as L rocked Mello back and forth, stroking his soft blond hair. "Shh, love. I wont leave. I love you, I promise I'll never leave..." After a long time, the boy's sobs died down. He was still trembling but his breathing had evened out. He was asleep.

L lifted his off the floor and carried him to the bed, tucking the covers in tight around his body before going to perch in his favorite chair. He kept his eyes fixed on the bed, on his lover's sleeping form, nibbling on his thumb. He didn't even notice when it began to bleed. He knew he was losing Mello, and he'd never been so scared in his entire life because for the first time, he couldn't come up with a solution.

The great L was at a loss. What the hell was he going to do?


	21. Love Is Not Like Anything

A/N: This chapter is my personal favorite thus far.

WARNING: This chapter contains self mutilation and suicidal thoughts, as well as other potentionally disturbing material.

Also, if you find yourself thinking that L seems kind of ooc in this chapter, keep in mind that even those who are very strong mentally have their breaking point. Especially those not used to feeling extreme emotions. Also, L is very curious by nature. It makes sense (to me at least) that he might want to gain his own experience to better understand the situation, even if he knows it is potentially harmful. The fact that he is under a severe amount of stress probably isn't helping much either...Also, I am not trying to make the generalization that everyone who cuts wants to kill themself, that is most often not the case. I am not trying to imply that everyone who is abused hurts themselves. People react to emotional trauma in various ways. I just thought I'd get that out in the open.

I got the title, as well as the opening lines from the song, 'I'm A Fake' by The Used. Awesome song. Awesome band.

Anyway, now that I've finished covering my ass, here it is. Read. Enjoy. Review.

Ls.potential.rapist, AlmightySponge, sadisticmarshmello: THANK YOU SO MUCH.

CHAPTER 21

LOVE IS NOT LIKE ANYTHING , ESPECIALLY A FUCKING KNIFE

_/"Small, simple, safe price. Rise the wake, and carry me with all of my regrets. This is not a small cut that scabs, and dries, and flakes, and heals. And I am not afraid to die. I am not afraid to bleed, and fuck, and fight. I want the pain of payment. What's left but a section of pygmy sized cuts, much like a slew of a thousand unwanted fucks. Would you be my little cut? Would you be my thousand fucks? And make mark leaving space for the guilt to be liquid. To fill, and spill over and under my thoughts. My sad, sorry, selfish cry out to the cutter. I'm cutting, trying to picture your black broken heart. Love is not like anything, especially a fucking knife."/_

At first, Mello had tried to hide the self mutilation, the cuts and burns growing more numerous with each passing day. L knew, when he tried to initiate sex, or even a kiss, and Mello violently pushed him away, that one of these sessions had recently taken place. When the mood to be close struck, the blond would try all sorts of tricks, from keeping his shirt on, to insisting the lights be turned out, to saying that he was cold while pulling the blankets over their heads. Even when L would let Mello do as he wished, when he slid his hands up Mello's arms, or brushed them across Mello's inner thighs, he could /feel/ every injury, some still sticky with the blood that wasn't properly washed away. It made him sick to hear Mello's moans grow louder as he did this, as if the pain of his fingers brushing a fresh wound felt /good/. He hated himself for it, as if somehow it was all his fault.

Eventually, Mello stopped hiding altogether. He pranced around in the nude, jumping the detective whenever they were alone. There were small straight lines traveling up both inner arms, starting at the wrist, the fresh ones overlapping with the pinkish healed ones. The cuts on his inner thighs were wider, deeper. L counted them, daily, noting the rabid increase. The detective had entered his room once to see Mello laying naked on the bed, razor blade dragging across the area just above the pubic bone. L watched the blood flow out of the cut. Mello's hand was covered in it, and as L watched in horror, he began to stroke himself with that hand, calling his lover to the bed. L wanted to take the instrument away, shake the teen, ask him just how the hell dare he ever think that L could enjoy such a thing. The detective ran to the bathroom, locked the door. He sat in the shower, not unable to move, to even cry.

One afternoon, when L was alone, working while Mello did whatever he did during the day (he had begun /skipping/ his classes, disappearing for hours at a time), the detective happened upon a message board calling itself a 'support group'. There were numerous categories and sub categories, variously labeled 'cutting', 'burning', 'recovery, 'emergency'. Under the emergency category, to his horror, L read the following.

/"_one hour. still bleeding. think it's too deep. please don't tell me to go the hospital. my parents can't find out. just tell me how to slow it down. home stitches maybe?"/_

There were several photos to go along. Before and after shots. L clicked on another link.

_/"Think it's infected?"/ _

There was another picture, showing the instruments used to burn the flesh, as well as the wound that was weeping clear fluids.

L couldn't pull himself away from it now. There were hundreds of similar messages.

_/"is there sumthing wrong w/me. it's so dark l8ly. haven't eaten nething in 2 wks. connection?"/_

The detective read for hours, looking for his answer. He didn't need to know how to stop bleeding, what instruments to use, how to hide the scars. What he needed to know was /why/ his lover did this. How in the hell did it help? Often, after Mello had injured himself, he seemed elated, euphoric, like he was on a high. L knew the boy didn't have access to any drugs on the premises, he'd have noticed the signs, but had begun to search the boys belongings anyway. There were no needle marks, no bloody noses or blown out pupils. So the way he behaved after hurting himself was obviously an emotional reaction.

L finally decided, after clicking away the message board in disgust, that there was only one way to figure it out. He couldn't come close to understanding how Mello felt after the news of his abuse as a child, but L was indeed emotionally distressed. The set up was similar. Would this relieve the tension, make things alright, if only for a few moments?

He dug through Mello's dresser drawers, finally happening upon a box he'd seen carefully tucked away during his last search. He already knew what he'd find inside. An array of razor blades, lighters, some bandages. At least the boy was careful to protect himself from infection by cleaning the wounds, though L noticed that 'cleaning' usually involved violent scrubbing, causing the abused flesh to reopen.

Having remembered the few times he'd been burned accidently, knowing how easily those such injuries became infected, L selected a newer razor blade from the box, tucking the rest of the instruments back in the 'hiding place'. As much as he wanted to throw the whole thing away, it would only anger the boy, and he could get more.

The first cut, across the back of his wrist, was quite shallow. It didn't even hurt, though it bled for several minutes. He tried another, pressing harder, dragging the blade. He could /hear/ his flesh ripping open, knew it was certainly deeper since it took longer for the blood to well up. When it finally did, he let his arm hang limp, watched the crimson fluid drip down, flowing to his hand, dripping from his fingers to the floor. There was no sudden euphoria, no release whatsoever. Was he doing it wrong? He'd seen his lover do very much the same.

He still bled as he switched arms, this time placing the blade on the flesh at the inside of his wrist, staring at the criss-crossing of blue veins there. He pressed down with the razorblade, gently enough to not seriously injure, but deeper than the previous times. This time there was some pain, his body warning that this might be dangerous, though he ignored the protests. With the pain came the unfamiliar sensation of shame. He was hurting himself /on purpose, ignoring instincts to protect this very sensitive flesh from the incredibly sharp metal. He felt no pleasure in it, only...embarassment, as well as concern of being found out. What would Watari say if he could see him now? This was so foolish. He knew enough of psychology to realize that this behavior only deepened the problems one might try to solve by it. But didn't Mello always feel better after? Didn't he smile, bounce around the room like an excited child in a candy store? Where was that? He wanted that feeling, needed it.

A little more pressure was applied with the second cut, then the third. It was hard to see what he was doing now, there was blood /everywhere/. It soaked the leg of his jeans that his arm rested upon. It was warm, sticky, so very red. Still his actions offered no comfort, only more regret and disgust.

L tasted salt long before he realized that he was now crying. He made no move to wipe his eyes, or reach for something to wipe away the blood. Behind him, the door creaked open, a familiar voice called out, excited at first, then shocked, angry. Oh god Mello was going to hate him for this.

"L! What have you done to yourself!" Mello yanked off his hooded sweatshirt, which he wore to mask most of his wounds from his caretakers. He didn't care if L saw them, since he was bound to anyway, but they might send him to another fucking therapist, make him talk about his daddy again. The blond winced as the fabric dragged over some fresh burns, made by a cigarette he'd pilfered from Matt.

"It makes you feel better. It didn't work, though. Look, I did it right." The detective held up his wrist, which still bled profusely. "I wanted to know why. You're so happy after you do it. I wanted to be happy with you."

Mello wrapped his sweatshirt around his lover's wrist, going to his dresser to find some bandages. He needed to soak up some of the blood so he could see how deep the cuts were. "Put pressure on it."

"I know that." The detective made no move to do as he was told, just sat there, fascinated by the way the liquid spilled out with each beat of his heart, how it flowed in all directions, falling from his arm, dripping down his hand. His tears fell onto his lips, he wiped them away, smearing some blood in their place. He licked this away, the strange copper taste clinging to a tongue that was used to suagary sweet things. It was quite unpleasant.

"L! Are you listening to me? You're losing a lot of blood. Do you feel ok? Can you stand?" Mello was tending to the wounds at the detective's wrist, having gone through several pads of gauze. Frustrated, he fetched a bathtowel, applying pressure. Blessedly, the towel was black (his own) so he didn't see just how much of his lover's blood it soaked up. It had already soaked up his own on many occaisions.

"I just wanted to understand. Please don't hate me." L mumbled on, pleading with Mello not to be disgusted with him, or angry, to just please come be held.

Mello couldn't believe it. Even now, when the blood was slowing down, but not stopping, he'd wanted to protect the blond. To hold him, tell him everything would be ok. But it wouldn't, would it? Because L had screwed up. He couldn't find that clarity that this was supposed to bring, did seem to bring for the young blond. If only it had worked, he thought, maybe he could get his head straight long enough to figure out how to help his Mello.

L had needed stitches. A mutual decision was made that between the two of them, this could be done upstairs. L was adamant that Watari not see his wrist, sounding very much like the children he'd read about in his 'research'. He did not want his father to be disappointed in him.

A cut on L's arm had needed at least one stitch, and each on his wrist had needed more than that. Though the detective had thought he could manage the task completely on his own, his hands still shook from the recent emotional breakdown, as well as the physical shock of losing so much blood. Mello apologized that he had no anesthetic to offer, and hated to have to repeatedly push the angled needle through his lover's pale skin, to have to cause any more pain.

They curled in bed, the blond saying sorry over and over for causing this, promising he would get better for L's sake. The detective seemed to finally be believing him as he drifted to sleep, for once being held in Mello's arms, his back pressed against the smaller boy's chest.

The teen watched L sleep for several hours, silently planning what he was about to do. He'd /promised/ he'd get better, and he meant it. What he hadn't said, was that he couldn't stop hurting himself, feeling disgusted with himself. Sometime before dawn, he carefully slipped out of the bed, quietly packing a bag while his lover slept soundly. He knew that L only slept when he was near, and that the insomnia would most definately rear it's ugly head again as soon as he was gone. He also knew that this was better in the long run. The stress of his presence would be lifted from everyone. L wouldn't hurt himself again, Matt could forget his stupid crush, and Near could finally win.

Mello filled his bag with the necessities. Not knowing where he'd go, or what he'd do when he got there. Maybe someone would make the decision for him. He might end up in some alley somewhere, murdered for the small wad of cash in his pocket. Maybe he'd find his way back to his birthplace, visit the home where all this had started. He could end it there himself. The house had been deserted, no one wanted to live in a place that had concealed such terrible crimes.

The teen almost changed his mind while penning his goodbye note. He did his best to not let his tears ruin the ink, hoping L wouldn't wake in the middle of it. He explained that it was better this way, even if it didn't seem like it right now. How he didn't /want/ to leave, but staying would only be selfish. All he had wanted to do was hurt himself, punish himself, but he'd dragged his lover down into hell with him and that was unacceptable. That was unfair. Anyway, he wasn't the person that L had loved anymore. He was just an empty shell. The gift he'd given when they'd lost their virginity together had been a lie. It had been long gone before the detective had ever set his eyes upon him. He was /dirty/. L deserved better.

He continued, asking that L comfort Watari and Matt, who would surely miss him at first. Tell them he loved them too, and he was terribly sorry for ruining their lives. He didn't /want/ to leave, he just /had to/.


	22. Pull Yourself Together Child!

A/N: Chapter's kinda short... : ( I sorry...

BUT, HEY, LOOK! ACTUAL DETECTIVE WORK! YAY!

Oh, and Matt and Near are back...

Thank you, Ls.potential.rapist for your review

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CHAPTER 22

PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER CHILD!

L woke, exhausted. He could not place exactly why he was so tired at first, since he'd fallen asleep in his favorite way, in the arms of his dear Mello. Despite his own mental breakdown, the remainder of the previous evening had been satisfying. It looked as if the teen had finally been shaken out of his depression. They'd disposed of the box of sharp objects together, after L's injuries had been lovingly tended to, then cuddled, each whispering that they loved the other before they fell asleep.

It wasn't until the detective rolled over, saw the digital alarm clock on the nightstand, that he knew what was wrong. First of all, he'd had no where near a full night's rest. Secondly, Mello was gone. There was an envelope pinned to the pillow where the blond should have been.

L read the letter carefully, six times, before he phoned Watari. It was obvious from the tone in the old man's voice that he was very surprised to be hearing from his surrogate child at this time of morning, and that he had definately been sleeping.

"He's run away. Watari, he's left me." Sometime during the explanation, the phone went dead, L thinking that perhaps Watari thought it was L's fault as well, and that he was angry with him.

Two minutes later, however, the old man held his charge as the raven haired boy wept. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. Following closely behind were his other teenaged successors, still dressed in nightclothes, not that the younger ever wore anything else, but they both had obviously been woken.

Near held the letter as Matt read over his shoulder. Each read it twice to themselves, once more aloud for Watari, who wasn't quite able to make out L's recitation of memorized note, between his sobs.

"What's he talking about, ruining our lives? What does he think he did?" They all waited for the detective to explain, who simply pulled up his sleeves to reveal his injuries.

"I just wanted to understand. But I upset him."

Matt looked confused, Watari began to make a careful examination of the cuts, checking for signs of infection, feeling somewhat proud at the skill with which the blond had showed with his vast medical knowledge.

"Obviously Mello has been injuring himself. Our mentor let his curiousity get the better of himself by experimenting on his own flesh." Near always seemed to know everything. Matt felt some pride in watching his boyfriend (was he really already thinking calling it that?) come up with the answer so quickly.

"It's obvious what he plans to do Watari. He's going to kill himself. This is all my fault. I should have done something more. I should have been there. I was so selfish."

"How can you just sit there feeling sorry for yourself! Fucking do something! If he kills himself, it /is/ all your fault." Matt screamed. Near took his hand, lacing their fingers together. This seemed to calm the redhead some, who rested his head on the shoulder of the smaller boy. Watari raised a questioning eyebrow. 'One problem at a time', he thought.

"Matt, you only worsen the situation with your accusations. Now is not the time for blame. We must act quickly, if we are to save the boy from himself."

"No, he's right. I'm to blame. He's already dead. All that's left is for me to follow him."

In all the years that Quillish Wammy had spent with the boy, he had never once raised a hand against him. The child had never been spanked, certainly, which might have been the cause of his brattiness. However, Watari did not believe in this kind of punishment, no matter how terribly the child behaved. It was not anger that he felt know, when he slapped L hard across the face, leaving his cheek bright red.

"Pull yourself together, child! You are /L/. The world renowned detective. You will find him and you will bring him back."

"Yes, that's right, of course. I am L. I am justice." This returned the detective's hope. He was justice, and justice always prevailed. "Now Watari, stop distracting me. We must get to work immediately.

Wammy's best hacker had broken into the records of every airline that left from England in the last twenty four hours. He paused every now and then, rubbing his eyes. Roger was right, he suffered terrible headaches from his frequent staring at computer and television screens. However, he was determined to find the clue they searched for. He looked for the names of characters in Mello's favorite books, searched for reservations made in the name of "Mihael Keehl" spelled backwards and forwards. He groaned in frustration, banging his forhead against the desk. Near stood behind him, rubbing his shoulders. When the younger boy thought no one was looking, he kissed Matt's cheek, ruffled his hair, offered words of encouragemnet, along with a cup of water and some aspirin.

The older two men had been calling the airlines, describing Mello in detail. Even when they claimed to be Eraldo Coil, Deneuve, and L himself, they were denied any information. One woman even claimed to have never heard of L. Ridiculous!

Watari had been watching their teenage assistants as he worked, noting how they almost never stopped touching in one way or another. Currently, Matt typed with one hand (genius!) while his other held Near's own. The younger boy was rubbing the redhead's spine, where the bones were curved outward from years of slouching over a keyboard. The older boy was making very disturbing pleased noises.

"L, in any of your research, if you happen to come across a place where I might procure a few good chastity belts, please do alert me." L gave him a /very/ strange look.

"I don't think I quite understand what you're getting at." The old man cleared his throat, gesturing to the couple at the computer. "Oh, well. Isn't that interesting. Mail, Mello is not going to like that at all when he finds out."

"Mail, that's your name?" Near asked. Matt nodded. After a moment, the younger boy added, "Nate." The subject had not yet come up. Neither had thought to ask.

"Nate. Awesome. Now I know what to say when we're-" Near blushed, his cheeks looking much redder compared to the paleness of his hair and skin.

"Matt! I don't think that's something we ought to be talking about in front of /either/ of them," he whispered harshly. The older teen just shrugged, turning his attention back to the task at hand.

"I am happy for you both. Just remember, Mail, that sex is a very special connection that one should share with only-"

"L Lawliet!" Watari scolded. "You ought not be encouraging their behavior!"

"If you had let me finish, I was going to explain that they should wait until the time is right, not rush into that kind of commitment." The detective smirked, hearing a quiet 'too late' from the redhead who was still typing furiously. Near hit the other teen on the shoulder, then immediately kissed the spot in apology, though the slap had hardly been felt.

"Oh come on, it's not like they haven't already heard it, Near. In fact, I'm sure they've /heard/ it." Matt had turned his head just in time to see both Wammy and Near blushing. "Like you've never done it old man. And if you haven't, you really should. It's totally worth it."

"Please, let's just get back to work. No more distractions. My old heart can't take it."

"I'm still coming up with jack shit." Matt neither hesitated to curse in front of his caretakers, nor apologized when he received a stern look from the older of the two. Lately, he'd felt very confident.

"Matt, I've just had a thought. You have tried Mihael Keehl, but Mello is certainly too intelligent to use his own name for a reservation. Please check for 'A-L-E-K-S-A-N-D-E-R Keehl." Of course, what other name would the distressed teen choose to hide behind? It was almost too obvious.

"Final score - L: one, Mello: nothing. Here it is, Aleksander Keehl booked a flight to Croatia this morning. It's left already." No one had to ask, the boy was already making reservations under assumed names for the four who'd been left behind. They'd be leaving on the next flight out, thanks to four poor souls who were now making 'emergency cancellations'.

"Mail really is the best hacker here at Wammys." Near was very proud, forgetting himself momentarily to give his boyfriend a kiss as reward for his brilliance.

Watari was most definitely going to have to ask L about those chastity belts one more when all of this chaos had sorted itself out...

* * *

A/N: I could totally see Matt doing it with Near. Don't ask me why but I can. So live with it.

But, wouldn't they be the most anti social couple EVER? They'd never leave the house...


	23. Ghosts Of The Past

A/N: Okay, so Matt's a bit of a perv but that's fine because nobody knows a lot about him anyway so I had a lot of room to work with. And you /know/ Near's a little kinky. Admit it. I could totally see him reading the Kama Sutra just for the learning experience. Just imagine what kind of "toys" he has laying around...

Thank you to Ls. potential.rapist, and sadisticmarshmello for reviewing chap.29

THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO HAS REVIEWED!

* * *

CHAPTER 23

GHOSTS OF THE PAST

Upon further research the four discovered that Mello's childhood home was abandoned, though still standing. There would be no reason for Mello to go anywhere else. Matt had managed to acquire two pairs of seats together, and as much as Watari felt like he should not let the teenagers sit together, he chose to spend the trip next to L. Despite his surge in confidence, he's seen the boy chew on his thumb until it bled. He knew the detective better than to think that this was another conscious attempt at self harm, because this was not in L's nature. This was something he often did when thinking too hard, or was in some kind of distress.

L was so lost in thought that he barely heard Watari's reassurances, barely even noticed when he was ushered off the plane to head for connecting flights. They could have flown L's private jet of course, but neither Watari nor L had the emotional clarity at the time to be able to operate the aircraft themselves. Matt insisted that he'd played enough flight simulation games to do it himself, but the two older men responded with a resounding "No!".

They rented a vehicle upon their arrival, which Watari drove at an alarming speed, having memorized the directions during their flight. In the backseat, Matt had rolled down the window, lighting a cigarette despite protests from the other three passengers.

"Mail's habit is quite unpleasant," Near complained, turning his head and holding a hand over his face.

"I thought you liked the way I taste baby." Matt teased, winking. Though he made an extra effort to face the open when when he exhaled.

"Boys! Be serious!" Watari rounded a corner, then when L reminded him that they were traveling in the wrong direction, he turned the car around, ignoring the honking of horns behind him.

"Let them be. I only wish I had Mello here to distract from the emotional stress."

The remainder of the trip was spent in silence. There were no words of comfort that could be offered. The only thing in the world that would offer comfort was the one thing that the detective could not have.

* * *

The building had obviously not been cared for in the nearly ten years that it had been deserted. The windows were broken, the door swung wide open, barely clinging to it's hinges. L thought he could see the ghost of a blond child playing in the yard, hair cut the same way it was now at thirteen. The blame for this hallucination could be placed on the fact that once in bed, during the handful of discussions they'd attempted to have in regards to Mello's past, the blond had expressed like he felt he'd died the day the police took him from his father. He may have continued to breathe, but that little boy, Mihael, was dead.

Watari did not trust the detective to venture inside alone, citing his breakdown the previous night, and that Mello had been hard enough to restrain in the hospital bed, when he /hadn't/ been suicidal. L refused. Someone needed to stay with the children, who were sure as hell not going in there. They could take care of themselves, that was given but he knew the Mello would not want any of them to see him in this place.

"I'm L. I forbid you to set a single foot outside of this vehicle, any of you." When nothing else worked, L simply pulled rank. He was after all the highest ranking official in the law, respected and feared worldwide. He almost turned, changing his mind, as he stepped over the threshold, wishing he had Watari's hand to hold, Matt's humor to keep him company, at least Near's skepticism to tell him that the house couldn't possibly be haunted. The door had creaked open, given up, and fell clattering to the ground. His lover had fallen apart completely, it was only fitting that his childhood home was well on the way.

There was still furniture in the living room, though little else. The detective noticed the signs of looting, as well as that of squatters. He almost tripped over a sleeping bag just inside the living room. He wandered through the downstairs rooms, hoping he'd find Mello there, not upstairs where most of the horrors had occurred. He'd been given the barest of details once, how the man had snuck upstairs, invaded the security that was supposed to be the boy's bedroom, under the guise of reading bedtime stories, tucking him in.

Finally, taking a few calming breaths, he made his way to that place, thankful that the door wasn't locked. On the bed, under a mountain of covers, he made out the form of the blond, curled up, apparently sleeping. The blankets shook.

When L yanked the covers back, Mello screamed, jumping away. He cowered at the head of the bed, shielding his face with his bloody hands.

"Mello, it's me. I've come to take you home. It's just me. It's L."

"Please don't do it again. I'm sorry I'm been such a burden. Don't worry, Daddy, I'm going to see Mommy soon." Mello held out both arms, palm up. There were deep slashes traveling from his wrists all the way up to the bend in the elbow. L had almost stepped on the blade that had been cast to the floor.

"I won't hurt you. He's dead, Mello. He died in prison. You know that." The detective reached for his lover, who flailed. L heard the cartilage in his nose crack when the back of Mello's hand connected with his face.

"Just leave me alone! Look, you'll be rid of me soon, just leave me alone! I won't trouble you anymore."

There was still time to save Mello from his injuries, L knew. Slitting the wrists, even the correct way, took more time than one might imagine, only a little quicker than even poison. Exsanguination was one of the slowest ways to die, it was remarkable how many suicides ended this way, must indeed take a strong will to wait it out. Though by the look of the blonde's face, color draining out, eyelids fluttering, the amount of blood on the dirty mattress, it had been some time already.

L was panicking. He had to convince Mello that he was safe, that his father was dead and someone who loved him was here to rescue him. He had to do the one thing that he promised he couldn't ever do. There was no time to waste, and reasoning that if Watari had deemed it necessary to act in the same way earlier that morning, L slapped the boy. Really, really hard.

"That is enough! I will not accept that you can look me in the eye and see that man! I am not your father. I would never force you to have sex with me, I would never punish you for the death of the woman that was no fault of your own. Aleksander Keehl is dead. Has been dead for nearly ten years. Now stop conversing with ghosts and come home Mello."

The boy blinked, still seeing the visage of an older version of himself superimposed over a face he knew he should recognize. The blond hair darkened to black, the blue eyes became grayer, irises thin around huge black pupils. The English words mixing with a jumble of Croatian curses and threats. Daddy would be so mad if he tried to run away. Then the blond ghost disappeared completely, still commanding him to not move, and how dare he try to leave him this way.

"L..." The detective sighed with relief when his lover finally seemed to recognize him. "L...please help me. I don't really want to die. He won't let me leave. Mommy left him. I was all he had left. And I was such a bad boy. I had to be punished."

Ambulance sirens sounded just outside. Watari stood outside the room, still on the line even as the medics rushed through the door. L was pushed out the way. Mello screamed, no, he wanted the detective to carry him out. He wouldn't let them come near.

"You best let the boy have his way. He can be very stubborn." The old man gestured to L, who had been fighting his way to the bed as one of the medics tried in vain to hold him back. "This man is his caretaker. He is the only person he trusts. He has a vast medical knowledge, he will know how to carry the boy without causing further injuries." When the medics ignored even this, Watari continued, hoping the detective's reputation might help. "He is L."

L had listened to the speech, not realizing that Watari had added this to the other languages he spoke fluently.

The medic was skeptical but hesitantly gave the order to allow it. "Let him through."

L thanked the man, lifting the blond from the bed, careful to not touch any open wounds. Mello let himself be carried, one of the detective's arms going under his knees, the other cradling his head. As the made their way across the yard to the waiting ambulance, they both imagined the ghost of a five year old blond, waving goodbye, thanking L for making the bad man go away.

* * *

Mello was forced to stay in the same hospital where he'd been born until he was in stable condition. L was not his legal guardian, however, he was, in fact /L/ so visitor rules were bent in his favor. He never once left the Mello's bedside, who slept through the first three days. The detective did not sleep, though he crawled in beside his lover to hold him while the painkillers delivered blissful, dreamless sleep.

Roger called on the second evening, asking when he should make arrangements for L's private jet to be brought. "Just what the hell are you doing in /Croatia/?" he'd asked. To which L had replied that if Roger was not capable of deducing such a fact then he had no right to know. Doctors begrudgingly signed the release forms on the fifth morning, asking if they'd like the recommendation of a preferred therapist.

"Fuck that." Mello had replied, munching on a candy bar purchased from a vending machine, complaining that it was of shit quality, though he finished every bite.

"What he means to say is that he has one of his own, which he will be seeing regularly from now on." Mello waited until they were safely on the jet to tell his lover that if he even considered forcing the issue, there would be a dry spell of epic proportions in the bedroom.

"You enjoy it as well as I. I highly doubt that it will become an issue."

Sometime during the flight, after Mello convinced L to try to get some rest, saying he looked like hell, the blond could hear whispers and giggling from across the aisle. He assumed Matt had taken a seat next to Near out of necessity, but they seemed to be getting along rather well.

"Matt, don't touch that, you don't know where it's been." The blond peered around the sleeping detective from his own seat by the window.

"Oh! Mello. I didn't know you were awake. How do you feel?"

"Mail promised to tell Mello about us." Near took the hand back, nuzzling Matt's neck.

"/Mail/? /Us/? If this is your way of trying to cheer me up it isn't working. It's so not funny." Mello made his patented 'yucky face', reserved especially for Near (A/N: You know the one. Picture what he looked like when Roger suggested he work with Near after L's death...Episode 26 of the anime, though I may be wrong.).

"We do not make light of our feelings for each other. We have become quite close recently, in your absence." Near had known of Matt's crush, feeling somewhat jealous even now that Mello and L were obviously inseparable. "Mail is mine."

Mello shook his head, ignoring the similarities he saw between his rival and his lover, once again.

"If this is your way of getting back at me, Matt, it's not fucking funny. This is beyond the pale, man. It's /Near/. Not cool."

Matt, feeling a surge of bravery, snuggled closer to the pajama-clad teen beside him. Though he still had feelings for his best friend, they were beginning to dwindle each time he saw the younger boy. There were many facets to Near's personality that no one saw to him, he was actually very affectionate and definitely fun to be around, when he wasn't instigating fights with the blond.

"It's not about that! I think I might really love him."

"I love Mail too."

"You what? Are you kidding?" Mello gagged, shaking L awake. He couldn't stand to suffer this alone. "L! Matt's screwing the rabbit! Quick, do something! Don't worry Matt, we'll go get you a nice lobotomy and you can forget about this whole thing. It's ok."

"We'll at least invest in some nice chastity belts. I've already looked into it."

"Watari! This isn't funny!" The old man's mustache twitched, a sure sign that he was either as disturbed as Mello, or was trying to suppress laughter.

"I wouldn't dare joke about such a thing."

L, wide awake again, held tightly onto the blond, both to comfort him and to prevent him from lunging across the seat to pull his friend away from the 'brainwasher'.

"Mello, I'm sure they do not wish for us to use such a word to describe their lovemaking."

"No, it's ok. Near doesn't mind calling it 'fucking'. You should hear the things he says to me. He's got such a dirty little mouth." Near slapped the older boy, playfully shoving him away. "Aww, come on, you weren't blushing when you were saying 'fuck me harder' the other night."

"Matt, you're supposed to herd sheep, not fuck them." Mello was finding it hard not to be sick, watching in horror as his friend kissed his arch nemesis. He had to be brainwashing him. He couldn't possibly enjoy it. Pervert.

L pulled Mello closer, pressing his nose into the boy's neck, even as he went on ranting and raving about 'sleeping with the enemy'. This felt good. Almost normal. It felt as if he had his old Mello back.

There was a lot of work to be done, that much was obvious but at least now, the light at the proverbial tunnel was in sight. Mello would get better with time, and he'd be there, holding his hand every step of the way.

* * *

A/N:

I just couldn't help but put a little comic relief there at the end after all that drama.

AND THAT'S ALL FOLKS! Next up is the epilogue.

Sequel detailing the Kira investigation is pending but I want to know how many of you would actually be interested in reading it. Remember to take the poll on my profile!


	24. You Think You Can Go Again Old Man?

A/N: I fucked around with ages/timeline/whatever...deal. Mello's 15, about to be 16. L's 26. Three years have passed since the story began. I just pushed everything forward so Mello would be a little older when the Kira investigation began.

THIS IS IT! Chapter's short and fluffy as all get-out.

THANK YOU TO ALL MY LOVELY REVIEWERS!

EPILOGUE:

YOU THINK YOU CAN GO AGAIN OLD MAN?

OCTOBER 30th, 2003

It was difficult to say if Mello was completely /over/ his past. As time when on, there were still signs that it affected him. The nightmares started again, shortly after he returned to Wammy's. He would go for weeks not sleeping. There were the times when he asked L to hurt him, got angry when L would refuse, instead just holding him tightly until he calmed or stormed out for the night, riding aound on the motorcycle L had bought him until he'd sorted out his head. But he'd begun to talk about it, though not with a therapist like his lover had demanded. L himself spent many nights listening, feeling terrible for just not knowing what to say. Though after their talks, Mello seemed much happier than after the few therapy sessions he had sat through.

Several months passed, classes began, and before he knew what hit him, L was turning twenty-six. Mello teased relentlessly about the ever closer big three-oh, though it did not affect the detective. His life was about to take a turn for the better, not due to the mountain of presents he'd be opening, or the special cake Watari would stay up all night preparing. L had tried to sneak into the ktichen several times, only to be chased out by an angry old man with a wooden spoon.

No, the reason had nothing to do with the approaching celebration, but the plans he had made himself in secret, behind the back of a certain gorgeous young blond (And good god, if he if he didn't get prettier everyday...). They lay in bed on the thirtieth of October, counting down the last sixty seconds until Halloween. At the exact stroke of Midnight, laying curled naked on the bed, L took a deep breath, and finally put his plans into action.

"Happy birthday, L." The blond was losing the fight against sleep, head on L's chest. The dectective kissed the teen's forhead, his cheek, the tip of his nose, his lips. "Mmm, L, not again...You've had your present three times over in as many hours. I'm /exhausted/."

"There is something that I must ask, and I will not wait a moment longer. Remember, it is my birthday, and you cannot say no."

Mello laughed. "Oh really? You think you can go again, old man? Because honestly, I can't." However, the blonde's mind was changed quickly, as his lover kissed the tips of each finger, bringing the ring finger of his left hand completely into his mouth, sucking on it.

"As beautiful as Mello is, I am also not sure that I have the stamina. But that is not what I am after." L rummaged through the pockets of his discarded jeans, holding Mello's left arm by the wrist as he slipped the band over his ring finger. "It is the third anniversary of the first time I realized my feelings for you. It is also my birthday. I would like very much if Mello agreed to marry me."

"We can't get married L. We're both men." Despite his protests, Mello took no action to remove the ring, simply staring at it, turning his hand over to get a better look. It was simple, though knowing L, it was also expensive, and thankfully, he'd known enough to make sure it was masculine in it's design. There were no gaudy heart-shaped diamonds, no fancy cut out designs, but it was definately meant for the purpose.

"Is that Mello's only objection, that law dictates we can not legally marry? Need I remind you who I am?" Mello giggled despite L's very serious tone of voice. He knew very well that the detective wasn't joking. Whenever he was told that something was impossible, or he was not allowed, it came back to that. He was L. He was justice. He would make it happen...

He was a brat.

"You're supposed to be tad bit more humble about this. You're asking, not telling." The blond couldn't help but think the childish behavior was cute. The detective almost always got what he wanted, if only to prevent him from throwing tantrums.

"Yes, and I suppose you are meant to be female, and at least eighteen years of age. Ours is an unconvential relationship. It is also a part of my life that I wish never to part with. Logically, the next step was to propose. Please accept." 'Please' was one of the least common words used in L's vocabulary, reserved only for something of great importance. Mello was only one of out two people that ever heard the man utter it. "I do not hear any protests."

"You know L, there's something I just noticed." L had kissed the boy when he had been given no further response, nuzzling his cheek. The blond had returned the gesture, looking ever more like a cat. "I have never seen you shave."

"I don't have to. As far as I can tell, neither do you. Now, love, was that meant as a way to change the subject, or have you conceded but are having difficulty in expressing the fact?" The topic of marriage had been debated in general once or twice, Mello bringing up statistics of divorce rates, spousal abuse, marriage of convenience, etc. He had argued his point and backed it up with a surprisingly thorough amount of evidence, cementing the fact that it had been a brilliant move on L's part by naming all three of the boys as his successors in the event of his untimely demise. But Mello had assumed L would agree, had been very surprised when instead the older man had said that nothing could possibly be more romantic, other than sharing the experience of creating a child.

"Yes." The response had taken so long that the dectective almost believed he would be denied in the end. He rolled over, laying on top of the blond. They kissed until they both couldn't breathe, the older relieved that the answer was yes, the younger nervous, but somehow happier than he'd been in a long time. "On one condition."

"Anything," L whispered against his lips.

"I get to tell Roger myself."


End file.
